


Even the saviour can't save the sun

by Coldfeetonthekitchenfloor



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Captain Swan - Freeform, End of the World, F/M, Love, OUAT - Freeform, Once Upon A Time, Pain, Sad, appocalypse, even the saviour can't save the sun, sun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:55:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coldfeetonthekitchenfloor/pseuds/Coldfeetonthekitchenfloor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>12 days. 12 days until the sun swallows up the only earth we'll ever have. No magic can undo that. No magic can stop it. 12 days and if there's one thing he should do it's to stay away from her. 12 days and all he can think about is that damn promise he made almost three years ago. 12 days and he has to find her because even the saviour can't save the earth but she can sure as hell save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 12 days

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is set after the season 4 finale but Killian leaves Storybrooke after they come out of the book's alternate world. Things divert from the actual timeline after that.

**Sidenote- Listen to Broken by Lifehouse**

12 days. That's 288 hours, or 17280 minutes, or 1036800 seconds. Time never mattered to him anyway. That's why he's lying unmoving, under a dark sky, damp grass soaking into his back, hook digging into the soil.  
The woman on his TV, had announced that the atmosphere would only hold for another 12 days. 

The expanding sun was almost at its peak. It would swallow up the only earth we'll ever have and nothing would be left. A whole race burnt out of existence in a mere second as if it was nothing. No magic can stop that, no magic would undo it. 

That shouldn't bother him. He's lived long enough to outlive any friend or family, he has nothing left that really matters. Except....well that may be one heck of a lie. 

The funny thing, is that everything feels exactly as it always had. The earth still spins beneath his feet, the stars still shine above his head, although a little fainter now, his ship still sits in the harbour. 

12 days and the earth doesn't even know what's coming. Here it is, orbiting the very thing that is going to kill it with no idea that in little over a week it'll be surrounded by fire and gas, burning and scorching until not even dust is left. 

Maybe the stars know. They always shine with that kind of omniscient aura. They form that same familiar pattern above his head, holding constellations that map out the universe. Then he notices that there is one difference. All the stars shine with the same light tonight. 

His eyes search instantly for the brightest one, his pirate instincts never quite disappeared. Along with all of his direction, the North Star is gone. Maybe it's been gone a long time now, he lost a lot of things when he lost her. 

An hour after the announcement and the world had already descended into chaos, the air filled with hysteric crying and screams, a constant buzz of noise. People hurrying to safe houses in attempts to stay alive, rushing to family members and loved ones. Doing what humans do best; panicking. Yet Killian hasn't moved. 

He expected to feel something when the end of the world came, maybe anger, fury, pain, sadness but he continues to feel completely empty. His head and heart had long ago drowned in the fountain of rum he poured inside himself. For a time it had made the flames worse, had given the fire a fuel to burn more fiercely but all fires eventually burn out. Maybe it wasn't strictly true, he does feel one thing, one thing that if he acknowledged would bring all other emotions crashing down.  
Regret.  
The only thing left is regret, and _that_ leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

What had he done in the last three years? Everything but lived. Ironic really, considering now he has less than two weeks to do so. Does he even know how to live anymore? It's interesting, that innate human instinct to just stay alive. There it is, causing the hairs on the back of neck to rise, making his skin crawl. What was he living for anyway? He knows the answer, of course he does. 

His mind doesn't follow his body as he gets up then, it stays lost in the black ink of the sky whilst his feet move steadily across grass and then pavement, before he's standing on wood. His leather jacket had soaked up the cold, sticking to his skin with the dampness and making him shudder as the wind picks up his hair and shakes the ropes and sails around him. 

It makes him miss his old clothes, the leather coat that fell past his knees. Then with a solid grace he moves around the deck, manning the ship the way it was supposed to be done by at least a team of 10. 

Sails are pulled tight, knots tied, anchor brought up. And for the first time in almost three years, standing at that wooden wheel, he captains his ship.

It's only when the storm hits that his mind rejoins his head and his eyes refocus. His ship isn't the only one sailing the ocean today but luck seems to be on his side. Every road was a line of unmoving traffic, filled with shouts and horns. The sea was open, the sea was his. It was the only thing that was his anymore. 

The rain pours down after a rumble of thunder as he sails away from the clear sky and towards dark clouds and leaping waves. He'd outrun many of storms but it was different heading into one. 

Bracing himself against the onslaught of icy wind and rain that simultaneously flattens his hair and clothes and ruffles them, attempting to push him backwards, he grips the wheel harder, hook biting into the wood on his left side. Maybe the sky knows what's best for him, he shouldn't be doing this anyway. 

In the distance an old church bell rings 12 times. Midnight. What was that itch beneath his skin, that dripping feeling of seconds ticking off of him each time his heart beats? The passing of time had never felt like that before, except from those precious few times when those lips were against his and-  
What was it that he was doing? Where was he going? All he knows is that there's a twinge of regret under the surface of his stomach and the only thing he owns is 12 days. 

It's not hard to put two and two together but he wouldn't allow himself to understand what it is exactly that he's doing. He was running, running like he always had, like he always would, but this time he wasn't running away. No, he wasn't running away from the threat. He was running towards it, facing it with wide arms, looking at the sun and yelling "Come on! Come on and burn me!" 

He was running head on towards the only sun he's ever known.


	2. 11 and a half days

The waves are relentless, so furious that he can't move from the helm, he can't stop, not even for a minute. His arms ache and his back is stiff, feet frozen and wet in his boots. At least the rain had stopped. His dripping clothes stick to his body and the shivers running through him do nothing to keep him warm. God, it was cold.

The storm quietens a little but the ship still rocks to and fro, wood creaking in protest as the the pirate steers on. He can't be sure how long he's been sailing but he knows it's been too long from the way his bones protest, his head pounds and his eyes sting. The bitter wind is sharp, turning his very core into ice. 

A conversation he had a long time ago with a Prince runs through his head and normally he'd immediately dispose of memories like that but he was too exhausted and cold to do a thing. The emerald sea turns to forests, waves into trees, ship into wooden trunks.

"I'd go to the end of the world for her." He had said and the words run in his head like some kind of mantra. Truer now then they had ever been. Was this really the end of the world? 

Killian had hoped that the Prince would remember that. He never found out if he did. 

He shuts his eyes to get rid of the memory as his heart jumps. His breath turns to a cloud in the icy air in front of his face. He knows where he's going, he's always known where he's going. Opening his eyes he takes another laboured breath, whispering into the wind.  
"The end of the world it is." 

And then he hopes with all his might that Prince Charming remembers that conversation they had such a long time ago. 

The sun comes up slowly, a burning red colour, bigger than ever. It casts shadows of ropes and beams across the deck and paints Killian's face with a red glow, turning the blue darker than the clouds. 

The sea calms considerably, the light bounces off each wave and it looks inviting now despite its deathly temperature. Sunrises used to be his favourite. Not this one. The colour is too deep, the sun too large, everything about it reminds him of this impending doom.

It should feel hot but it doesn't, dark clouds still roll above his head and the wind still holds a freezing chill. It takes him a moment to realise that the two don't really belong together, a blazing sun with grey clouds. A reminder of his old self with her. A spark of something flashes through him but then it's gone. Maybe it's jealousy, maybe it's pain but this whole 12 days is crumbling his resolve. It's bringing her back to him when he tried so hard to forget.

The spec of land is visible without using his old rusty telescope and the ship glides through the waves with ease now, despite the howling wind. It would take him an hour or so to reach it but something in him stirs at the thought of being on land again. His sea legs aren't as good as they used to be. 

He relaxes his grip on the wheel, just holding it with his hook instead and his hand is almost blue with cold. He forms a fist and breathes hot air into it before stroking the wood behind the wheel where the carving was left from teaching a sailing lesson long ago. 

"At least we got one last trip eh?" He murmurs to his beloved ship. His voice comes out rough with tiredness and thirst. Almost there, he thinks, almost there. 

He panics as the ship nears the docks, slowing down with hesitation. What if they don't live here anymore? What if she's not there? What if she is? That thought is almost strong enough to turn him round, to make him get back on the ship and sail back, but he has 12 days and all he can think about is that damn promise he made her almost three years ago. 

He's not sure what this impulse is but he knows it's something to do with the fact that if he doesn't go there now he'll die alone. He always said that he was a survivor, well what happens when the last survivor is certain to die, then what? Surely it's better to die in the place of someone you love, though he's not sure that she loves _him_ anymore. 

Shutting his worn eyes he counts to three then steels himself. He pats the battered wood one last time before heading in what might be the location of his death. Forget 12 days he'll be dead within 40 minutes. 

The walk is longer than he remembers, it takes him a good 20 minutes to get out of the town where he left the jolly. 

By the time the main road splits into two smaller ones, his feet burn with effort as well as coldness and he's sure that he hears a distant rumble of thunder. 

Drops of rain fall slowly, one in his hair, one down the back of his neck but he doesn't notice too much, he was already soaked to the bone. His sodden boots make a steady noise against the ground and he tries to focus on it to prevent him from thinking about anything else, except it doesn't really work. 

The rain picks up and he's shivering again, but he can't bring himself to care about anything other than getting to the house. He slowly makes his way down the winding road, holding his jacket around him, head down against the wind and rain. If there's one thing he should be doing right now it's to stay away from her. Nothing has changed because the world is ending. The rational part of his brain battles to make him turn around but the impulse is too strong. He's tried of fighting it. 

There's a clearing in the trees and then he takes a step onto the marked out gravel path and stops. There's only David's truck in the drive and he doesn't know how he feels about that. 

And so it is, just like he knew it would be. Smoke gently rises from the chimney, all windows illuminated in this warm looking glow which turns blurry beneath his swimming eyes. 

The smell of something that makes his stomach hurt fills the air and the rain doesn't seem to be able to touch the cobbled brick that hasn't changed a bit. There's a quiet hum of music and he's never been drawn to something like he is now, the siren's he's encountered have nothing on this. It reminds him of a time of warmth and smiles and hot cocoa with cinnamon and he forces _that_ right out of his head. 

He takes a deep breath before making the last few steps to the front door and he can't tell if he's shaking from the cold or something else. Here it is, the bullet to the heart, the plunge into deep water. Here is the last remaining piece of his himself, well...so be it. 

He knocks twice and instantly regrets using his hook, the inconspicuous sound of metal against wood sends something up his spine. There are voices behind the door and he can hear every footstep as someone approaches, his heart beats in his throat and then the door is pulled open. 

Her smile falls off her face the moment her eyes find his. He opens his mouth to speak but he's lost all the words because it really shouldn't but it feels like family. 

He watches as Snow's look of shock turns to one of anger and her hand comes up and slaps him hard across the face before she shuts the door again. 

Killian's hand comes up to his tingling cheek, his eyes squeezing closed but he stands unmoving in the rain, stunned. It's a shout of "wake up" and anxiety bites at his skin. He should definitely not be here. 

Before he can react, the door opens again and he opens his eyes, rain dripping from his hair and sticking in his eyelashes, to see Mary Margaret's green ones surveying him. He watches as she takes in his dripping appearance, his shivering form, with guarded eyes. She looks at him like he's a monster, a beast from the sea and he needs to say something, anything. 

Oh god. If she sends him away it's over, it's been over for years now. An alarm blares in his ears, a flashing 12, a shape of a face, and his mouth opens with a rush of words.

"The world is ending." He says, his voice betraying him and holding traces of something he'd been hiding for a long time. 

Lightning flashes above his head and he jolts slightly, eyes showing nothing but fear. He's faced countless villains and monsters in his time but nothing was as frightening as a protective mother.

Not knowing how he got there, he's suddenly inside the house and in her arms and she's so warm and he's so exhausted that he practically falls into her. He's not sure if the quiet moan comes from her or himself but his mind screams something life relief and his heart beats out a rhythm of sadness tinged with hope. 

She holds him tight for a long moment and he tries failingly to stop his shakes, it's been such a long time since he was in someone's arms. He squeezes her tight with trembling fingers, soft material clenched in his fingers like a plea, he was weak, so weak.

There's a cleared throat from behind them and Mary Margaret instantly pulls away from him, her fingernails digging into the tops of his arms through his jacket as she holds him an arms length away from her. Then just as suddenly as the first time she slaps him again, harder this time and he can practically feel the red handprint on his cheek. It feels good, he wants her to do it again, he deserves it, he deserves more. He takes it in silence, still struggling for words. 

"You can't be here." David says through gritted teeth, and he strides over, hand around Killian's neck and pushes him back against the wall. 

The look on his face, thunderous. There's the reaction he needs, there's the pain he finally lets his empty body feel. The hands are warm around his cold neck, burning with the difference, searing his skin.

"Do you have any idea what you put her through? What you put Henry through?" Killian jumps at the venom in his voice and he didn't want to think about that, he really didn't. He didn't ever want to hurt her or Henry. That was never his intention. 

"I-" he chokes, eyes watering from the lack of air in his lungs, welcoming the constricting feeling as his chest starts to protest. He had nothing to say anyway. 

"Stop. You don't owe us an explanation. You owe one to Emma. You broke her heart." Mary Margaret interrupts fiercely. She steps forward but then shuts her eyes, a tired, sad look on her face. 

Killian visibly flinches at the sound of _her_ name and David frowns, releasing his grip and stepping back all at once. The pirate stumbles backwards against the wall, hands instantly coming up to his throat, rubbing the skin and sucking in the air that his body greedily gulps down. 

"Get out. Don't come back. I won't let you hurt her again." David says firmly as thunder rumbles around the outside of the house. Killian shakes his head, telling himself that it's not out to get him. 

"Please I..."  
His voice sounds awful even to his own ears, here he was, a pirate reduced to begging for something, anything, from the very people he had wronged. He pauses, forcing his face into a vacant look, eyes empty to hide the truth. 

"I have no where else to go." He sighs pathetically and the thick silence in the room suffocates. 

He holds his breath, a long glance from Mary Margaret cutting through his walls. A flash of grief is all she needs to relent and tug one of his arms to make him follow her up the stairs of the house, his slow tentative footsteps showing nothing but knowledge of his unworthiness. 

"Snow what are you doing?" David calls, as he follows them up the stairs. 

Mary Margaret pushes him roughly into a bathroom and pulls a fluffy towel out of one of the closets. She unfolds it and pulls it over Killian's back and he wants to say thank you, he really does, but the lump in his throat just refused to move. 

"I can't let him die of hypothermia." She says flustered as she leaves the room but there's a hint in her voice that tells him it's exactly what she _would_ like to do. 

There are sounds of her opening draws and rummaging around and his hands rub his temples, preventing his mind from wondering where their daughter was. 

She comes back in with a handful of David's clothes and pushes them against Killian's chest and he's quick to catch them in this arms. 

"Snow we can't!" David insists but she ignores him. 

"I know they're not your usual but they'll have to do." She says in a voice that doesn't sound like her. It adds to the fire in his chest and he enjoys the pain. 

"Thank you." Killian chokes out and then she quickly leaves the room, pushing David out with her and shutting the door. 

In a daze, it takes his tired body some effort to peel himself out of his wet clothes but the towel is warm along with everything else in this house. David's clothes are nothing like the dark jeans and leather he normally wears and as he pulls on the flannel shirt he catches his reflection and frowns. 

He looks different, softer somehow but it doesn't look bad. His eyes are dark, hollowed and drooping, he looks like the shadow of the man he used to be. A sickness fills his stomach and he instantly turns away.

He waits a while before leaving the bathroom, the pair are clearly arguing outside the door and he doesn't want to interrupt. 

"She won't come back if she knows he's here! The world is ending and we need our whole family here!" David protests and he's right, here he was again putting a wedge between her and her family and since when was that fair?

"We can't throw him out! He was part of our family too, a long time ago. That doesn't for one minute excuse him for how he hurt her but it's something." Snow argues and her voice is back to that caring, softness he remembers. 

His chest stutters at that, eyes glazing as he holds back vivid memories of the very family he was once a part of. 

"That was before he left her! I've never seen her that broken before. We can't do this to her." Charming insists with a sort of sad tiredness to his voice and Killian almost forces _himself_ out and into the storm at that. 

"Ok you're right, we can't hurt her again, not when we've only got 12 days left." Mary Margaret relents with a heartbreaking pain in her voice because it's a reminder, a reminder that she's going to lose everyone she loves. 

He has an idea that within minutes he will too but maybe he lost that the day he turned his back.

"Ok, he has to go." David says, voice full of relief but tinged with something that Killian doesn't recognise.

"No, no he doesn't. He looks awful Charming, Emma won't get here until tomorrow morning. I think we should let him stay the night and make sure he goes before she gets here. She'll never know." A bitter taste forms in his mouth, her family were going to deceive her for him. 

He wants to open the door then, protest that it was a bad idea, that he can't stay, but he doesn't. He's being selfish again, the one thing he knows how to do.

"I won't lie to her, not before it all ends. I really don't like this. Not after what he did." David feebly attempts to stand his ground but it's obvious that he won't get anywhere now. 

"Does any of that really matter now? Look, we're all going to die. The least we could do is spend our last days together." Snow murmurs and it's a hard truth, another painful reminder.

"Tomorrow he goes." Charming caves and Killian opens the door before anything else is said. 

Both survey him with emotionless eyes and he won't look up to see that, not with dishonour as his permanent expression.

He follows them both back down the stairs, trying not to wince as his muscles protest with tiredness. He's led into a living room, flickering in a dark orange light as a fire burns gently. The room is all woods and reds, the hint of something of a castle brought to it. The darkness is pushed away, the only thing left, soft shadows. 

He gingerly sits on the edge of the sofa not belonging in place so full of comfort. The smell of the sea lingers on him, no matter that he's not even in his own clothes. The salt clings to the ends of his dark hair and his fingertips and he resembles a storm not a person. 

The fire instantly begins to melt away the coldness that had seeped into his bones, the ice dripping from his skin as flames dance in his eyes. Maybe he can become a drizzle not a hurricane.

"Thank you." He says again, even if it's just for a night. The quiet couple exchange a look and Charming sighs before he hands over a blanket. 

"Get some rest, we'll talk later." Mary Margaret murmurs and she's looking at him with that same sad regretful expression again. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and leans back against the cushions, exhaustion weighing down his bones. 

***

It takes his sleepy mind a few minutes to understand why there is a wide eyed toddler staring at him when he wakes up but the resemblance is uncanny. He'd forgotten about the baby.

"Leo, I told you not to wake him." Snow calls from the other side of the room and Killian frowns then. 

"Leo?" He asks confused. 

"He goes by his middle name now." She explains with a smugness, she'd won the battle to eventually call him by her fathers name. 

Baby Neal, he realises and as he pulls the blanket back to run his hand through his hair. The tiny lad gasps. 

"Mummy look! Captain Hook!" Leo exclaims, pointing at his hook and taking a step backwards cautiously. Snow makes an affirmative noise before she moves into the kitchen where he guesses the prince is also. 

"Where's your hand?" He asks all huge green eyes and innocence. 

Killian takes a moment to answer, brain still slow with sleep. 

"It got hurt it a sword fight with a crocodile." Killian murmurs and the little boys fingers twitch as if he wants to touch it, fear gone. 

"A crocodile?" He asks as if Killian was being ridiculous, tiny eyebrows raised and mouth in a knowing smile that puzzles the pirate. 

"Aye, a gold one." And Leo's face turns to wonder before he runs into the kitchen to tell his parents. 

He remains in his cautious position until Snow and charming serve him dinner. He looks at his plate and then at his hand holding his fork with self reproach but his stomach churns and he slowly eats. 

They all eat in silence except for Leo's occasional singing or babbling. He gets shown to a spare room afterwards and he doesn't go back downstairs, laying on a bed that should be warm but feels a little cold and staring at the ceiling and it's so much more than he deserves.

11 days he thinks, 11 days and it'll all be gone.


	3. 11 days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Listen to Still lost by Tom Mc Rae**

Dreams were not uncommon for a pirate, especially for a pirate who'd lived more than a hundred years, though he could never be quite sure, he'd stopped counting a long time ago. His dreams were tinted with darkness, an un-clearable mist hanging at the edges. 

Surprisingly it was the good dreams that haunted him, the ones in which he woke with her voice in his ears or her face fading beneath eyes. 

Nightmares didn't compare to those. He'd catch himself, hand outstretched, almost reaching her but never quite touching, before she disappeared with the dawning of reality. His cruel mind liked to do that, give her to him only to take her away in the next breath. 

This morning was different, instead of being out of reach she was right before him, all crinkled eyes and shining smile. Shocked with the pure proximity he stands still, scared to even blink.

Then slowly her facial expression changes, her eyes turn hard, a line forming in her forehead as her eyebrows lower in a scowl. Her lips shut and then slowly drop and he wants to look away from the intensity of what had turned into anger. He wants to hold out a hand, to reach up and smooth the anger away, to touch her warm skin and have her lean into him the way she used to do all those years ago. 

Before he has the chance to move a single muscle, something forces his body back away from her and then again even further. Despite his attempts to stay there, to stay with her, he's moved further and further away by something out of his control. 

He hadn't taken his eyes from her and she was harder to see now that she wasn't so close but her face changes again. The frown smooths slightly but there was still a down pull of her lips, her eyes turn wide and a look of heartbreaking sadness takes over. He almost forces himself to look away at that, his whole body filled with this undeniable guilt. As a tear ghosts it's way down her face, he realises that it was his own feet moving him backwards, his own legs forcing him to walk away from the one person he needs. 

She fades from sight then, creamy painted walls coming into focus as his eyes open and his heart hammers in his chest. 

He instantly forces himself up, stumbling as he rushes into the ensuite bathroom, only calming under the stream of a cold shower. He'd never had that dream before but her name was on his lips just the same. 

The water chills him to the bone, slows his racing heart, but nothing can clear the image of her from his head. He redresses in David's clothes, not knowing where Mary Margaret had put his own, and pushes his wet hair from his eyes. 

He pauses, hand on the door knob. He needs this more than he's needed anything in his life. He doesn't want to be alone at the end of the earth. He takes a breath and opens the door, no false bravado is going to help him here. Bloody hell, he was terrified and he was going to have to admit it.

Mary Margaret and Leo are sitting at the table in the far end the living room that was separated into a dining room. She catches him cautiously standing in the doorway and indicates to the chair opposite her. 

"Hot cocoa?" She asks, voice free of emotion and she won't meet his eyes, he can't read her face. 

It's different to the harshness of yesterday, then again his mind was clearer today than it had been in years.

"No." He murmurs, nervously scratching the back his neck. "Thank you." He adds. Too painful of a memory that one. 

"Tea? Coffee?" She tries again and he nods at that. 

"Coffee, if you would." He says and then he coughs to clear his voice of the cautious uncertainty it holds. 

She leaves the room and Leo pats his hand on the tray of his high hair to get Killian's attention. 

"You're a pirate." He says curiously and Killian frowns.

"Sort of, not any more, I'm just a Captain now." Killian stumbles unsure of what he should or shouldn't say to the boy. 

"Are you a bad pirate?" And his little face has no trace of fear just plain curiosity. 

He looks like Emma used to when she was working out a plan back in Storybrooke and his heart clenches. 

"I did a bad thing, I made a big mistake but I've come to say sorry." Killian says eyes scrunched in painful regret and Leo seems to understand that, nodding his head with bottomless searching eyes much too intelligent for a child his age.

Mary Margaret comes back in with a small plate with chopped up breakfast on for Leo and a mug of coffee for him.   
He thanks her and takes a gulp, wincing as it burns his tongue and throat. The bitterness fills his senses numbing them to a certain extent. 

Snow distracts herself by helping Leo eat but the lad is so independent that he doesn't let her do much, taking it from her and feeding himself. She glances at Killian and he holds her gaze unable to look away. It happens slowly, his walls crumbling before her eyes, leaving him exposed, showing her everything.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs, lowly and sincerely and she immediately shakes her head, averting her eyes.

"I said don't do that, you don't need to apologise to me." And it's the first bit of emotion he gets and its hopelessness, pure hopelessness. 

He almost winces at the tone of her voice. It's like pressing your hands against a radiator after they've been numbed by ice or snow, the feeling comes back but it burns every single nerve.

"Aye, I do. I didn't mean about that. I'm sorry that I've just turned up, I'm sorry that I forced you into making a choice between me and your family, and I'm sorry if she hates you for it." It's steady and he hopes that she feels the honesty swirling in his eyes. 

She looks at him then, a nostalgic feeling washing over him at that colour green that he sees everywhere, in the depths of the ocean, in the grass, in the forests. It's not quite _that_ green but it's so so similar his pulse quickens. 

"Killian why are you here?" She sighs, not answering his apology and he didn't expect her to.

He looks down ashamed, hanging his head like a child. Don't ask, please don't ask that, his mind shouts. 

"Like I said, I didn't know where else to go." He mumbles. 

He chances a glance up to catch her shaking her head, not accepting that as an explanation.

"That's not the real reason is it? You could have just stayed wherever it was that you were." A frown pulls at her face and her voice is hard despite her soft eyes. 

"Did you come back for her?" And there it is, the question he'd been waiting for, the one that they both know the answer to. 

There, the gun's been fired, the target hit. A whoosh of air escapes his lungs. 

He looks up, glancing at Leo who was listening with more interest than he thought possible for a child of three, a piece of toast held in his small grasp. 

"I......" Killian starts with a grimace, self hatred in his eyes. 

Then he stops, searching for words, searching for something. His eyes flicker to her face, he can never give her enough, he can't give her a reason that's good enough, one that her daughter deserves. 

"For years I've regretted what I did. I didn't just walk away from her, I walked away from everything I could have had. I'm selfish, I look out only for myself so I'll never get hurt. And it works, until the time that it doesn't. She taught me that." A flash of recognition flashes across Mary Margaret's face and it takes him back to that diner and grilled cheese.

He forces himself to continue, "And I did get hurt because...." another long pause, "because when you break someone else's heart you also break your own." He finishes with a humourless, self depreciating laugh and it's so bitter and self loathing that he almost flinches at the sound of his own voice. Her eyes soften but he can still see anger below the surface. 

"I came back because you were the closest thing I ever had to a family." He looks at her face with storming blue eyes, voice shaky, and takes a breath, 

"I came here because I didn't want to die alone." he finishes with a broken voice. It resonates and he's vaguely aware that Leo drops his toast

"Killian." Mary Margaret simply says and her eyes are swimming, face contorted with that emotion of a mother or a friend that he remembers. 

He squirms under her look, eyes down whilst he swallows around the emotion choking his throat. 

"You...you just vanished. You left her thinking about you every morning when she woke up and every night before she went to sleep, for a long, long time. Every second she was wondering what happened, wondering whether she should still worry, or even care about you, glancing at her phone all the time, hoping your name will reflect on the screen, ignoring the fact that deep down she knows it won't.  
She saw pieces of you in everyone she met, too broken to form attachments. You left her embarrassed to tell anyone she misses you and feeling like she looked pathetic if she told them she still loves you. She held in her feelings and struggled to believe. It wasn't fair, it's _not fair_. She was, and will always be, worth more than that," she takes a long breath meeting his churning eyes, "and you know it."

 

"I don't deserve it, I know I don't, but please don't make me leave, love." And he hadn't noticed that the prince was standing in the doorway behind him but the two of them exchange a look over his shoulder. Wiping at her eyes, Mary Margaret shakes her head. 

"You don't have to go." She says with a pained smile and he hates it, hates that she gets it, hates that she gives so much when he deserves so little, hates that he doesn't hate anything about this at all. 

"If Emma doesn't want you here-" Charming starts his tone a warning, but Killian shakes his head, turning in his seat to face him. 

"I'll do exactly what the Lass asks of me. It was never my intention to hurt her." He insists. 

"What was you're intention?" Mary Margaret asks and he looks down for a long moment, the pathetic explanation burning on his tongue. It's long overdue and ridiculous, he can see that now. 

"I wanted to give her the one thing that she could never have with me. The rules of the universe don't work in my favour." He says slowly, not taking his eyes off of the wooden lines in the table. 

Neither of them answer and when he eventually does look up she's looking at him again with empathy and sadness and he doesn't want to see that, he doesn't _deserve_ that. His hand forms a fist, nails cutting into his palm as he clenches his fingers tightly. 

"What was it?" The prince asks, and Killian turns in his chair again to look at him a moment before sighing and hanging his head back down. 

"A happy ending."

***  
After breakfast, which Killian pushed round his plate rather than actually eating, Mary Margaret gives his clothes back and he's not surprised to find that the smell of the washing detergent takes him back to days spent in her old loft in the town he wished he never left. 

It's the smell of the blankets wrapped around Emma that day she was trapped in the wall of ice, the smell of her bedsheets when she pushed him back against the mattress when he'd died to save her, the smell of....well home. 

He changes back into his dark jeans instead of Charming's blue ones and shrugs back into the comfortable leather of his jacket, he keeps the flannel shirt on underneath, he'd grown to like its softness. 

Like last night, soft music was playing from a phone plugged into some speakers in the sitting room and it calms his nerves a little, he stops his pacing and instead sits bouncing his knee as Leo plays wooden swords with the prince. A strange sadness grows as he watches the pair, matching smiles on their faces as they play a game that used to be the older's reality. 

He's only just met the little boy but he can't help the lump that forms in his throat at the thought that he'll never get to grow up. He'll never get a chance to use a real sword, he'll never get a chance to see the land he was supposed to live in, he'll never get to become a man, become a prince or eventually a king. He was three years old and that's all he'll ever be. 

It's almost midday when a soft rumble of an engine can be heard and that sound of gravel crunches beneath tires. He doesn't have to look out of the window to know that parked outside the door, next to that old rusty truck is a familiar yellow bug, worse for wear but just as bright as the day he first saw it. 

A sweat breaks out on his forehead and both Charming's freeze as the doorbell rings. Leo is instantly up and running on small legs shouting something that sounds like "Henry." 

Hook stands and runs his hands through his hair as his heart rate quickens, he tugs at his ear and a look of panic crosses his face as David follows Leo to the door. Mary Margaret places a hand on his arm, eyes full of something that is supposed to make this easier before she smiles half heartedly and walks into the hall to greet the rest of her family. 

The house is suddenly loud, boots treading on the floor and hello's that sound like "thank god's." He doesn't hear her voice above the rest but he does hear Henry, exclaiming an excited hello to Leo who Killian guesses was quite thrown with him, in a much deeper voice than he remembers. 

It's enough to freeze him in place, eyes fixed on the door, air held tight in his lungs. He shouldn't be here, he can't be here. He hears Regina laugh and Robins clear accent and the sound of another child's voice but he still doesn't hear _her_. 

He knows they're nearing, coats and shoes being taken off with the pull of zips and he still hasn't found the ability to use his brain. 

Then he hears Snow talking above the cacophony of noise, trying to get Emma's attention but failing as he finally hears that voice that used to run on loops in his mind, saying something to Leo that he doesn't quite catch. There goes her warning. 

It's something like a dream as everyone files into the room at once, Killian not quite understanding how they were all suddenly in front of him and the noise cuts off abruptly. His pulse races in his ears and he takes a long moment to prepare himself, staring ahead at all the faces yet eyes unseeing, and then he lets his eyes find her. 

He's not sure what he was expecting. Maybe something like the Big Bang, something that would kill him him. It doesn't and he's a dead man anyway, they all are, but he's standing in front of her now and maybe that doesn't matter anymore. He understands why he's here now, even the saviour can't save the sun but she can sure as hell save him. 

The silence fills the room, heavy and suffocating and he can't move, he can't blink, he can't _breathe_. Emma's eyes are already on him when he finds her face and _that_ brings him to his knees. 

He almost squints with the light that seems to surround her, sun shining through the window and turning her hair golden. Her eyes are wide with surprise, pink mouth half open in shock and for a split second her face contorts into this look that breaks his heart but then it's gone and her face is blank, unreadable, all emotion shut away, held back. Her shoulders move inwards her arms cross over her stomach, and he can see the way she sets her jaw. He's back behind the guard, all bridges between them smashed to pieces. He's nothing to her now, he'd gained a part of her by holding the scarce amount of trust that she had in her and he'd crushed it to dust.

A cough comes from his right and Robin steps forward, hand outstretched red faced but slight smile on his lips. 

"Killian, it's good to see you." He says and Killian tears his eyes away from Emma just long enough to shake the mans hand and make a choked affirmative noise and fake a smile that looks like a grimace. 

"Hook's staying with us a few days." The prince clears up. And then things start moving again, Regina nods in greeting and Emma turns away. 

Leo distracts a confused and much older Henry and he guesses that the other little boy with dark curls was Roland, though he too was taller than he remembers. 

Without thinking about it too much he follows Emma out of the room, hurrying through the kitchen until he finds her opening the patio door. 

"Emma." His heart clenches around the syllables, voice rougher and softer than it had ever been. 

It was the first time he's spoken her name since.....She flinches at the sound of her name on his lips and he instantly wants to apologise, wincing at the visible effect it has on her. 

He needs her to turn back round, needs her to say something, needs her to yell at him, to hit him, to break him. The chill is back in his bones, shadows over his face. She doesn't turn, only slides the door open further.

"Don't." She warns and it cuts through the ice in his soul. 

The sunlight bounces off her hair softening the hardness about her but he doesn't need the sunlight, he knows the softness beneath the guarded exterior. 

She steps out into the cold but bright day and without looking back, slides the door closed behind her. And even that is more than he deserves. 

Hot drinks are passed around and a fire lit again but Emma stays busy, far clear of him. Mary Margaret had disappeared not long after he returned from the kitchen and both mother and daughter came back a long while later, cheeks reddened from the cold and gentle smiles on their faces. Emma's eyes aren't the same, he can tell that. 

Henry keeps his distance, throws Killian disbelieving or wary glances every so often and he wouldn't make the lad uncomfortable but he just wants to talk to him. The mood gets lighter as the day goes on and there's not a single mention of the impending danger. He almost smiles at one point and Regina squeezes his arm gently but when he looks at her she looks away. 

He wishes they would all stop doing that, he doesn't deserve what ever it is they're doing. He doesn't deserve their kindness, their comfort and he definitely doesn't deserve their sympathy. He tries not to look at Emma, he really does but by the end of the evening Leo is asleep on her hip, his head resting on her shoulder whilst she gently rocks him side to side. He can't take his eyes off her then, watching as she hums a soft melody he recognises, love in her eyes that causes a pain in his heart. 

It was a scene that was his in another life, one where he didn't leave everything like the cowardly villain he was. One where the child had eyes of green, his shape, and unruly blonde hair, where the child was his, hers, theirs. Drowning on could have's and would have had's and the restricted air in his lungs he turns away, wet eyed.

Feeling heavy and a little unwelcome in this family gathering that he has no right to be a part of anymore, he makes his excuses and finds his way to the room he stayed in last night. 

He wasn't welcome here, that was clear. He sits on the edge of the bed, certain that this room was much colder than the rest of the house. Now what? He can't stay, he wouldn't stay, not if it made things complicated like this. He'd slip out unnoticed in the night, darkness was a part of him anyway, he belonged to it. He had no part in the light. 

A gentle knock on the door breaks him out of his thinking. Expecting it to be one of the Charming's he braces himself, he was a broken man and he knew it. This had always been his weakness, this is what he gets for running to the thing he loves rather than from it. 

It's not Mary or David however and Henry gingerly steps into the room with wide worried eyes, all long limbs and messy hair.

"Henry." He speaks softly in greeting, the name uncomfortable but familiar on his tongue. His eyes hold such a careful regret and sincerity and he wonders if Henry can see it.

Henry doesn't look up, frowns, but takes a step closer. 

"Killian I..." Then he changes his mind, looking at the floor and scratching the back of his neck nervously. 

He looks so much like her, that famous green against pale skin, the only difference in the dark hair clearly from his father.

He was older now, broader and taller but the innocence of a young boy still in his face, which like always, was as easy to read as an open book. 

Here he was, attempting to be not a boy but a man, standing up to protect his mother's heart, and quite probably his own. It fills Killian with some emotion he can't decipher and some sort of pride pulls his stomach as Henry stands straighter, squares his shoulders. Killian almost wants him to shout at him.

"What are you doing here? Why are you...what....I..." The start is steady, angry, but as Henry stumbles over his words a sadness filters through and then frustration at his own emotions.  

Killian stands from the bed and takes a step forward, swallowing hard. Henry takes a breath but it clearly does nothing to clear his head. 

"You can't." He chokes with a step closer and then as if driven by an uncontrollable impulse, his arms are around Killian's waist, head pressed into the familiar leather.

Killian sucks in a breath in surprise but his hand falls to the boys back, holding him there whilst Henry regains control. So here he is, 11 days, a soft blonde in his head full of regret, her son in his arms and a broken heart in an aching chest. 

"I'm sorry Lad, I'm so sorry." And the sincerity of his own voice is comforting but only for a moment. 

Henry lets out a long breath shuts his eyes then pulls back at the words, giving him a look that says "I missed you" before he sets his jaw and pushes Killian back by hands on his chest, though they hold little strength. 

Killian holds his hand and hook up in a surrender, putting space between them.

"That doesn't fix anything." Henry says, anger back in his eyes. 

"No, but I'm here now." Killian agrees, sad eyes and soft voice, hoping that that means something, it has to mean something. Henry's eyes flash. 

"Mum doesn't want you here." He throws and Killian drops his arms to his side. He nods slowly, drooping shoulders. The truth hurts. 

He takes a moment to reply, sifting through the thoughts running wild in his head until he finds an appropriate response. This is Henry he is talking to, the boy he used to love like he was his own son, maybe he could have been, but he rids himself of that thought immediately.

"But you?" Killian eventually asks, a hint of hope in his voice as Henry's eyes soften once more.

"I....." His eyes meet Killian's for the first time and he holds them for a long moment, soft face and honest eyes. Then he shakes his head, not taking that route. 

"I don't ever want to see her the way she was when you left, not again." He says with pained look, eyes squinted and lip held between his teeth. 

Bloody hell, what had he done to her? He knows the answer to that question but that's not a thought train he wants to go down. 

The sound of Henry's name being called distantly floats up from downstairs and the boy turns to leave, walking towards the door slowly then turning back to give Killian one last look. 

Killian clears his throat.   
"If you think it's best, if you don't want me here, I'll leave. This is your family, not mine." He says slowly, sitting back down on the bed that maybe wasn't so cold after all.

Henry nods, stepping outside. Killian lets out a breath resting his elbows on his knees and leaning so his forehead was in his right hand. He looks up as Henry pokes his head back round the door, speaking in a rush with pink tinged cheeks.

"Don't leave. I lied earlier, she's hurt and she doesn't trust you but it's only ever been you. You can't leave her again. She'll hide it but she wants you here." 

It's everything Henry was holding back and Killian can see the way he feels like he's betraying his mother. He takes a breath.

"I want you here." He adds and the honesty is striking.

Killian nods this time, wanting to give the lad something back but not knowing what to say. Henry waits a second and then steps out the room again. 

"Henry!" Killian calls quickly and he hears Henry sigh before his head appears round the door again. 

"Thank you." Is all he manages and it doesn't make much sense but Henry gives him the hint of a smile before shutting the door.


	4. 10 days

It's a funny thing, time. In reality it doesn't exist. There is no such thing. It's a material thing, a concept to help understand beginning and end. Everyone's life is an hourglass, sand slipping through fingers until suddenly more time has passed than what is left. It's bottom heavy and then it's not enough, it's never enough. The monotonous ticking of a clock suddenly becomes the soundtrack to his life. Seconds crawl out from under his skin with every number that runs down. 

A knock on his door startles him awake and he pulls the comforter over to cover his bare chest. Mary Margaret comes in with a warmth that follows. She frowns and shivers slightly. 

"It's cold in here." She remarks before handing him a mug of something hot. The smell of coffee fills his senses and he smiles in thanks. 

She pulls her cardigan tighter around herself before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Look Killian, don't expect everything to be as it was. A lot has changed." And just like that he's allowed to stay? 

He reacts slowly, blinking to adjust to the light.  
It's unlike him, cautious being the only way to describe it. 

"I don't know what to do." He whispers, wet eyes, sitting up against the headboard and sipping at his drink. 

Her eyes catch his and he sighs, letting her give him that that look again, the hopeless one.

"We're going to have a discussion later. To figure out if....." a pause, "to come up with ideas," she takes a breath, "to see if we can stop this." Grief fills her eyes for a second before she smooths it away behind a tight lipped smile.

"Help us?" She asks and maybe the hopelessness isn't just for him, maybe it was for herself too. 

"Of course." He nods, strained voice and fake smile and she pats his leg through the sheets and stands to leave. 

"Always." he adds under his breath and she pauses, throwing an unreadable look over her shoulder. If she hears him she doesn't say anything.

***

"I haven't been able to use magic since we left Storybrooke." Regina says, looking at her hands with a scowl of annoyance. Robin places a hand on her back and she glances at him with a smile. 

The dining table is full of mugs, more than its usual amount of people round it. All of them are huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, all frowns and squints whilst brains are busy. Leo and Roland sit playing on the carpet. 

They're searching for something, for an answer, for a way out, except there isn't one. Killian knows that, despite the hope in his heart and in the eyes of everyone. He can feel it, the end looms over him in a way it never had before. It's inevitable, nothing was going to save them. 

"I have." Emma speaks up and all eyes turn to her. 

Killian tries not to look but he can't help it. She stares down, swirling hot cocoa around the rim of her mug with her little finger. He can't read her face but she still renders him breathless.

"Not on purpose. Only a few times in emergencies." She says slowly, glancing at Henry as he smiles back at her sheepishly. 

"Is there no way to control it?" Robin asks and she shakes her head. 

"Magic isn't supposed to work in this world. It happens by chance when someone is about to get hurt. I'm not strong enough to use it consciously." He wants to disagree with that because if Emma Swan was anything it was strong. Hell, she was stronger than he'll ever be. 

"What would we do with magic anyway? We can't freeze the sun, can't shrink it, can't move the earth further away. Magic isn't strong enough to transport us to a different land, we need a portal for that." Mary Margaret murmurs.

"And there aren't any beans." Henry says and Emma reaches out to squeeze his hand that was resting on the table. 

He gives her a smile that reassures her that he's ok. Her face changes from that unreadable look then, eyes conveying her pain and lips pulling down as she watches her son trying to come to terms with the end of the earth. 

Killian watches her as Henry turns his attention back to whatever it was that Charming was saying. He follows her eyes as they survey Henry's face. She looks at him like he's made of cracked glass, like she's just waiting for him to shatter. He watches as her eyes squeeze shut for a moment, opening to reveal loss and heartbreaking pain before she blinks and it's all gone. 

"The safe houses and underground bunkers aren't going to do a thing. If the sun...well if it explodes..." David trails off, eyes on Leo across the room. 

He was chasing Roland round and round in a small circle, giggles falling from his mouth and flapping his little hands around. Killian swallows, picking up where the Prince left off. 

"If it does happen, nothing will remain." He says lowly and he can feel her eyes on him at that but he refuses to look at anyone but the Prince who's eyes turn back to the group with a look that Killian doesn't want to see. 

"I refuse to believe that there's nothing we can do." Regina insists. 

She looks different, all hardness melted out of her. Her eyes full of something he used to see in Emma's. She looks softer, warmer, kinder.

The talking takes up most of the morning and there's still no clear solution found. Tempers rise and fall as emotions build high as everyone tries and fails to find a way to save their loved ones.

It was a little cramped with all of them in the house and Regina and Robin had taken Roland on a walk to get some air and well needed space. 

He'd taken to sitting in the backyard, legs swinging off the wooden boards of the porch. He hadn't realised that the house only had three spare bedrooms. Roland had slept in a makeshift bed on the floor in Leo's room, Robin and Regina in one room, Emma and Henry in the other and he had the last room himself. 

He feels selfish, selfish and that he's taking advantage. He doesn't belong here anymore. He might have done, a few years ago but this family was reliant on trust and truth and he didn't have either. 

Music starts up again inside and he shuts his eyes, let's the breeze pull at his hair and his clothes. He was on the outside looking in now, in the cold with the warmth just out of reach. 

The door opens behind him while he watches the very thing that's going to kill him fall below the horizon. There's a sort of grey about the evening, not quite dark yet but not exactly light either. A hand on his shoulder has him flinching gently, turning his head to find Regina. 

"Can I?" She asks with a raised eyebrow, indicating to the edge of the porch next to him. He nods, shifting slightly to his right. Neither speak for a long moment, staring ahead into the twilight.

"I get it." And he turns his head at the firm but calm tone in her voice. 

Her eyes hold his but then fall back on the sky. He watches her face, noting new smile lines by her eyes and mouth put there by time. 

Does she get it? Then he thinks of her Evil Queen actions and her losses due to her own selfish decisions. He remembers how hard she tried to make up for everything, the mistakes she made, the killings, the destruction. She does get it, but it doesn't mean a thing. 

"Talk to her Killian." She says quietly, not looking at him this time. 

"I can't." He murmurs, eyes focused on his hand, marked with scars and old battle wounds. 

He wouldn't know what to say. Through cold solitude and darkness he'd lost the words to piece them back together, to tell her how it hurts. He's broken all they'd built before, that solid bridge reduced to nothing. 

"It took a long time but she's over it." Regina says slowly with a distant look as if she's remembering something. 

"Exactly." And it's said with a humourless smile. Over me he thinks, over us. 

She just sighs in reply to that, swinging her legs as the wind blows her dark hair in her face. 

His mind goes to last night and he starts off tentative, pretending to be inspecting his rings, voice low and soft.

"Henry," he says and he can see her glance at him from the corner of his eye. 

"He was...." He can't ask, he can't. Trailing off, he sighs shaking his head. He doesn't have the right to ask her.

"You were the closest thing he ever had to a father, what did you expect?" She guesses what he's getting at. 

An icyness is there with that, a coldness he remembers and despite her words he wants to smile at the nostalgic feeling in his gut. 

What did he expect? His eyes shut and he swallows hard against the tightening of his throat. How had he misjudged everything so throughly?

She laughs a little bitterly.   
"It took him months until he would sit and watch Peter Pan with Leo." He flinches at the name and Regina shakes her head. 

"The cartoon." She clears up and he nods. 

"Then when he finally did sit and watch it he would tell Leo that it was all wrong and that Peter Pan was the Villain and that Captain Hook actually helped everyone sail away from Neverland."

Killian's eyes widen as he looks at her with intense curiosity.   
"Poor Leo doesn't know what to believe." She finishes.

That would explain the odd questions about him being a bad pirate. 

A stronger gust of wind causes them both a shiver and Regina pushes herself up, brushing her hands over her jeans. 

"Come on, it's cold out here." And she holds out a hand. He glances at it then back at her face. 

"Tell me about it." He mumbles and she wiggles her fingers. 

"She'll have your head if you don't come in for dinner." And he takes her hand at that, standing on frozen legs and following her back into the warmth.

They reform their group at the table, steaming food in front of their eyes, on their plates. Henry eats the most and Killian smiles at that, the growing lad enjoying every last bit. 

A wine is passed around and it warms up Killian's throat. It's hot in his stomach, starts a fire in his heart. It makes him heavy, limbs like weights and a chest full of bricks. He follows the conversation with dreary eyes and learns that none of them had seen each other in quite some time. 

Robin and Regina had found a house about an hour from the Charming's with a garden big enough to grow apple trees. Real apples, safe apples. Henry still won't take a bite of a single one. Roland had a tree house in the garden. 

Emma lived in between the couples. Not too far from her parents and close enough to Regina that Henry could move between the two of them. From what he gathered, Henry had learnt to ride and had his own horse at the stables not far from their house. 

He's told that everyone had left StoryBrooke not long after he had. The darkness from Gold had sucked all of the magic from the town before they managed to destroy it by burning the dagger. 

There was no point staying in a small village that held so many memories of monsters and villains. The whole town had split up, promising to keep in touch before going separate ways.

He tries not to get caught up in it. In the soft voices, the humour tinged stories, gentle laughs and shining eyes. He tries to eat his food without savouring it's flavour, tries to listen without feeling anything. It doesn't work and the wine makes it worse. It makes everything warmer, colours brighter, his heart beat slower. 

The feeling of home surrounds him and his shoulder's relax, brushing against the Princes's without tension this time. He doesn't speak much but he listens to everything, including Emma's light teasing of her father. And he yearns, he yearns to be a part of it, a part of her again.


	5. 9 days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Song suggestions  
>  -Poison Rita Ora cover by Tenterhook   
> \- Cold water by Damien Rice  
> -The wisp sings by Winter aid**

9 days is the hardest. Well, the hardest so far. 

There's a gathering in front of the t.v already as he stumbles down the stairs still half asleep. Snow has her head in her hands, Charming holding her against him. His eyes move to Emma next who was looking at the screen, jaw locked, eyes hard, fists clenched. 

Moving closer he gets a better view and what he see's is chaos. A grainy footage of men and women smashing shop windows, stealing. Gunshots are fired constantly, fires blaring from trashcans. The streets are in ruins, everybody fighting for anything they could get their hands on. 

The commentator sounds tired. Tired and with very little to say. He warns not to leave houses and to lock all doors and windows to stay safe. 

"We haven't got enough food to last us all." Comes from Mary Margaret. 

Emma stands straighter, takes a breath and he knows what she's about to say before she even opens her mouth. Jeopardy friendly, that's what she was. That unwavering bravery that makes her jump in the way of danger, run straight into the fire, had never left her.

"I'll sort it." She sighs. 

She gives her parents that look, her face straight, no trace of worry but her eyes are tired. He can see it, it's the same look he thinks he has in his own eyes. It's a tiredness of being strong, tired of fighting. 

Mary Margaret sees straight through it and maybe it's the years of time spent with each other or maybe she could always see through it. 

"Emma no, you're not going out there." 

Emma rolls her eyes with a face that she makes when she's told what to do. She didn't do well with authority, even when she knows it's to keep her safe. 

"I have to Mom, we don't have a choice." Her voice is quiet, calm, un-negotiable. 

Killian's chest tightens. She can't go out in that. Before anyone else can protest she's out of the room, coming back with a gun tucked into the waist of her jeans and that famous red leather jacket on. 

"Emma I'm coming with you." David says and Mary Margaret instantly tightens her grip on his sweater. 

"No, they need you here." Emma argues and there's a frantic look on Snow's face. There's no way to stop her daughter from doing this. 

She looks around, looking for a different way. David's eyes connect with his own and oh god. 

"Hook's coming with you." He says firmly to Emma then looks back at Killian. "You're going with her." He tells him. 

Emma's eyes widen and she goes to protest but doesn't. Deyjavu. Her eyes flicker from Snow to Charming's faces and David's eyes turn from something final to an apology. 

She doesn't look at him but she nods shortly and then turns to leave giving her parents both a kiss on the cheek as he looks at them both incredulous.

Killian follows her, watching her stiff shoulders, clenched fists and he hates the tension he creates in her. 

Her name runs on a loop in his head, taunting his lips as he walks swiftly behind her. It's silent apart from the sound of their boots against the ground and the path away from the house he shouldn't call home looks different in the morning than it does at night. 

The cold air stings his cheeks and he pulls the leather tighter around him. He keeps his eyes on her back. The line of her body is straight, arms crossed over her front as she walks determined to wherever it is that sells food. 

He wants to apologise again for forcing her shield up, for making her so tense. She lets one arm drop after a while and he watches her fingers stretch out and then curl into a fist over and over and he knows it's because she's cold. 

It takes him back to winter in Storybrooke. The wind would blow her hair into his face so all he could smell was her shampoo made of strawberries, the leather of their jackets and the potent smell of coffee. They'd walk side by side, shoulders brushing, hands knocking and he'd catch her opening and closing her fingers trying to chase away the numbness. 

He always seemed to be warm back then and he'd take her hand, her soft cold skin against his rough but warm palm, gripping her frozen fingers. She'd smile at at that, twisting her hand so her fingers laced through his. She always used to do that when ever he held her hand it held some sort of meaning. It wasn't just him holding her it was her holding him back, it wasn't him and her it was them, together, a team. 

She breaks him out of his thoughts then, coming to a stop so that he almost walks into her back. He fights against the urge to find her hand and squeeze her fingers with his own, his hand was cold anyway it wouldn't do a thing to warm hers. 

He looks up in surprise, the small town was a wreak. It was like the scene he'd seen this morning on TV. He hears Emma suck in a small breath and before he can think his arm comes up to grip the top of hers as she takes a step forward. She stops, freezing instantly and he immediately lets go. 

"You can't." He says gently, shutting his eyes at the way his voice sounds. It was raw and he swallows. 

"I don't have a choice. I need to find something." And it's almost harsh, something like "you can't stop me" rolling off her tongue. 

They were just on the edge of the street, the shadow of a building hiding them from the light of the day.   
She still hasn't turned to face him and he looks up the street again, at the smashed glass, echoed gun shots and blaring fires. The floor was littered in bricks and broken material from the buildings and people were rushing to and fro, things in their arms. The shop alarms ring in his ears and a full on fight begins a few metres from where he stands. When a gun is pulled out and turned on the other, Emma finally turns. He knows that it's not to look at him but only to avoid the sight about to come but her eyes lift up and his chest catches. He's looking at her in that way that just screams "Can you hear me now? Can you hear me?" But to her he just looks lost. 

The swirling green comforts him as he flinches at the loud bang and the sound of a body hitting the floor. She shuts her eyes then and he resists the itch to reach out and pull her against him. 

"I might have something on the Jolly."  He says quickly, panicked, knowing quite well that Emma would walk straight into the chaos to get what she needed. 

Her eyes open and he sees the confusion written there with a raise of her eyebrow and something like panic dances across her face. 

Whilst he waits for her answer he looks at the town behind her head, watching blood spill into a puddle on the road. 

She doesn't respond, and when he glances at her she just clenches her fists. They need to get out of here quickly. He despairs at the greed that falls upon the world when there's a dire situation, at the way everyone takes anything they can get their hands on when the laws cannot be enforced. 

"Ok." She agrees after a beat of silence, tired voice that can't think of another way around this. She gestures with her hand for him to lead her there. 

It's not far to the port and she walks next to him, a good bit of space between them, not that he blames her for a second. 

He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots his ship standing the exact way he left it. He catches the way Emma stops when she sees it and he pretends not to notice the way she bites down, jaw tight. He sees her take a breath before she continues walking up to where the Jolly rocks with the roughness of the sea. 

He hates that she doesn't smile at it the way she used to whenever they went sailing. He lowers the gang walk and climbs upon the creaking wood. Holding his balance, he turns to help her up but she's already behind him stumbling as the waves knock against the ship. 

They go below deck, hands on the walls to steady themselves as they tip left and right. They pass his bedroom and as his eyes fall upon his bed he turns, noticing the way hers linger there, triggering the same memory as the one that hurts his heart. She's quick to avert her eyes, avoiding going anywhere near that and still lost in the past, pain in his head and on his shoulders, he forces himself on to his store of food. 

It's not a lot but it's something until they can get a better plan together to find somewhere that hadn't been looted and would be safe. 

They search for a bag but all they find is an old satchel and it only carries half of what they'd found. Killian pulls out an old blanket and bundles tins and vegetables on it, tying the corners. It's makeshift but it allows them to carry most of it. He turns to his wardrobe bundling a pile of clothes under his arm whilst Emma sorts out what they do and don't need to take. 

A small smile creeps onto his lips as he watches her avoid all the apples and remembers "it's a family thing." He doesn't know why he'd even bought them, he hadn't eaten a single one since then all those years ago. 

They agree to leave the last few bits behind but Emma changes her mind at the last minute. She turns back holding out a battered Captain's hat that he forgot that he even had. Her finger runs around the rim absentmindedly and he remembers the time she came up from down here when he was sailing once. 

She had the damn thing on her head, smile on her lips and he was so taken aback by the way she looked like she belonged there, on the deck, sea wind in her hair, a sailor on his ship, that he'd been too breathless to tell her. 

He doesn't tell her now either as she picks up the last few items and places them into the hat, holding it upside down. He just bites his lip and stares down at the wooden floor boards, whispering a "thank you", that he hopes his brother could somehow hear, under his breath. 

Arms full, they climb the stairs and make their way carefully off of the rocking ship. Emma loses balance and nearly goes over the edge but then she's reaching for him and her hand clasps around his lower arm and he drops the satchel to hold her wrist. 

"Careful Swan." He murmurs and she looks at him with unease in her eyes that makes him let go of her as soon as her own hand falls from his arm. 

He ignores the tingle in his fingers as his blood fizzles beneath his skin at the warmth of her. He doesn't say another word on the way back and he knows she's glad of that. 

 

Mary Margaret holds Emma tight, worry leaving her and mouthing a thank you at Killian over her blonde head whilst Emma explains what had happened. She leaves out the part with the gun. They unload everything they'd brought back but Emma disappears somewhere in the house with Henry after that. Even this morning was too much and he knows that but now it's like he's had a little piece of her and he craves more. 

His mind goes back to punishing himself for what he did to her. She was so open, so unguarded around him and he'd crushed what was inside. He'd ruined the little bit of trust she had left. He saw the way she was with everyone else, the way she was with her family and her close friendship with Regina and it makes his heart swell because he could have had that, he did have that. 

The whispers in his head don't let him forget it and it can't get any much worse. He gets to watch her be happy, live her last few days but not be a part of it. He goes to bed early, heading upstairs before diner, issuing the excuse that he wasn't hungry. He sits on his bed in the dark, filling his insides with rum. He's not even sure that what's in his flask is rum anymore, he'd put in anything and everything just fill him up. He knows it's not the best idea but after his day today he just needs it. 

He closes his eyes, the moonlight turning the insides of his eyelids a golden colour and slips in and out of sleep. The gold envelopes him, numbs him from everything and she's there like she always is. The light is her, sucking him in and leaving him there to watch as she dances just outside of his reach. 

Then there's the darkness again, villains and monsters torturing him, taking away all the warmth, all the gold. Shadows and dark figures haunt him, the worst one being one that looks just like himself. It's him but it's twisted, eyes hard and flickering like fire and he's cruel, always so cruel. He's selfish and he destroys everything he loves, ripping himself apart as he takes the light out of everything living. 

He wakes hours later, heart pounding painfully against his ribs, cold sweat covering every inch of his skin. He stands up, preventing his heavy eyes from pulling him back under. His chest heaves in air but all it does is suffocate him more and the inside of his head is so loud that it throbs. 

Biting down hard enough on his lip that the familiar metallic taste sits on his tongue, he pulls tightly at his hair, trying to bring himself back to reality, trying to get a hold of himself. 

He pushes open the bedroom window and icy air rushes in, drying the sweat on his forehead. It calms his heart but it's not enough so he quietly shuffles out, careful not to make a noise in the quiet house, and makes his way down the stairs. The clock ticks monotonously on the wall in the hall and he's tempted to break it. 

He finds his way in the dark to the kitchen and to the back door and with shaking hands he rushes to push it open. It slides easily and he steps out, turns and pushes it shut behind him. He leans his forehead against it then, sucking in lungfuls of the air that chills his skin. 

He breathes out slowly when the tightness in his lungs subsides and he stands up straight, turning to look up at the blackness of the sky. He should have known it was clear because of the coldness but he's not expecting as many stars as the ones that shine down on him. There's the North Star, right above his head.

One flickers across the black and he doesn't believe in any of that but he shuts his eyes nevertheless and just wishes. 

"Bad dream?" And he jumps at the voice that haunts him, eyes snapping open and turning in her direction. Emma.

He panic's, he wants to talk to her but now is not the time for a conversation, not when he's trembling and he's lost most of himself. Not when he's three parts gone and one part aching. 

He forces himself to look at her, to prove to himself that she was there, that this was real and not another one of his drink induced dreams. His eyes flicker over her face but she won't meet them with her own. 

"Aye." he murmurs softly. "Something like that." 

She looks at her legs, swinging off the edge of the porch the way his had been the day before. 

"I thought they had stopped."  And it's quiet. The first mention of anything from their past, the first reminder that they even had a past. 

He's taken back to sleepless nights, sweat covered body, to gently whispered comforts, tight embraces. 

"They had." He whispers and she looks at him properly then. 

There's a flicker of sympathy before she looks away. She knows as well as he does that it was her that prevented the dreams, her that pushed the darkness away. Without her there's nothing to save him from himself. She stands, brushing her hands on her legs the way Regina had done before. 

She steps closer to the house and he forces his mouth into action. 

"Don't leave on account of me, i'll go." He says lowly, watching her face for signs of anything. She shakes her head.

"I don't..." She starts, a tiredness about her that he knows sleep won't fix. 

"You don't trust me, I know." 

Her head shakes again at that, confusion pulling her eyebrows down.   
"It's myself I don't trust." 

And he knows exactly what she means and it makes his heart jump in his chest. She doesn't trust herself enough to stay away from him, doesn't trust herself to not let him in again. 

He prevents himself from thinking about that further and watches as she pulls the door open. She stops, one foot in the house, turning to face him and she's so calm about it all that it scares him to death. 

"Try counting sheep." Maybe it's care disguised by sarcasm but there's a real smile there, one that plays with his heart and goes straight to his head. 

It melts the panic away, lightens his limbs, sends him flying and he's heading straight for the edge. It's that smile like the one she gave him on the beanstalk, the first one. After the first time he was falling and he's falling again now, maybe he never stopped. Then she's gone and nothing can kill him like that.

His head is quiet now, the only thoughts being ones of her. She's like an antidote. Well...maybe she's the poison. He finds his way back to bed, the image of her smile playing behind his eyes. Nothing gets him high like this, he's completely lost his sanity. 

He shuts his eyes, trying to get over how badly he wants her so much, tired of this grief. He curls himself up into the sheets whispering "Let me sleep" and doesn't remember counting any more after the 130th sheep.


	6. 8 days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Play Delicate by Damian Rice (on repeat)**

Killian wakes with an ache in his head and the sun stinging his eyes. All that you see is not a fairytale, he thinks, and not for the first time. 

That's what it was supposed to be right? His life was supposed to be a fairytale, he was a god damned fairytale character. He belonged in a book next to a boy that never grew up, he was supposed to be a villain with a fear of crocodiles. 

He's reminded of this by little Leo who seeks him out at 6am with a dvd in one hand and a blanket in the other. 

"Captain Hook?" The tiny lad asks with a tilt of his head and Killian rubs at his tired eyes. He sits up and Leo takes a step back from the bed. 

"Are you okay Lad? Where's your mother?" Killian mumbles, voice laden with sleep, well the little amount of sleep he has had. 

"Still asleep." He shrugs. He looks down at the silver circle and contemplates something before holding it out so Killian can see. 

"Will you watch this with me?" And his green eyes are so big and his face is so hopeful that Killian can't find the heart to say no, even though his head is pounding. 

Killian grimaces and Leo steps closer again. 

"Please?" And his voice is so small, so pleading.

"Okay." Killian nods and he stretches before pulling the comforter off and standing on sleep deprived legs. 

Leo smiles excitedly and rushes to the door. He turns back and puts a little finger on his lips, signalling for Killian to be quiet and then sneaks to the stairs. A fond smile pulls at Killian's lips despite himself and he follows Leo. 

Leo stands on the top step and looks at Killian expectedly. Killian frowns and then Leo holds up a small hand towards him. Understanding then, Killian cautiously reaches down and takes Leo's hand in his own helping the boy down. His hand is so small he ends up with his whole grasp around Killian's thumb and Killian shouldn't be as endeared as he was. 

He realises that it's so early that no one else in the house is awake and is confused as to why Leo had chosen to wake him up out of all of them but soon realises why when Leo hands him the disk. 

Of course. Leo giggles at Killian's fumbling and his lack of knowledge about DVD players but he soon has Peter Pan playing on the TV. 

Leo sits on the sofa and pats the cushion next to him expectedly. He's shocked by it all but Killian sits next to the 3 year old and Leo shuffles closer, leaning his head on Killian's arm sucking his thumb. 

The movie has it the wrong way round, Henry was right. When the cartoon Captain Hook appears on the screen Leo pulls his thumb out of his mouth and tugs on Killian's sleeve to get his attention. 

"That doesn't look like you!" He says, all scrunched up nose and smiling eyes. 

"Bloody hell, it doesn't, does it? I haven't got hair like that." Killian protests and Leo laughs. 

He tells Leo the real story whilst the cartoon plays, leaving out the parts where the boys father nearly died and his kiss with Emma and Leo listens intently. When he's finished Leo smiles at him 

"You're not bad you're a hero." He tells Killian sincerely with Snow's honesty and optimism and it reminds him of what Emma used to tell him. He wonders what she'd say about him now. He fakes a smile and ruffles Leo's hair. 

"I wouldn't know about that lad." He says with wet eyes. 

But the next time Peter Pan comes on the screen Leo sticks his tongue out at him and boo's loud enough to wake someone up so Killian shushes him though a quiet laugh. 

Leo lifts Killian's arm and snuggles himself into his side, patting the Pirates stomach affectionately and at first Killian puts his arm along the top of the sofa, unsure. When Leo starts shaking a little he realises that the little boy was cold so he gets the blanket that Leo had brought down and lays it over him, bringing his arm down and holding him closer into his side. 

In true Charming fashion Leo was affectionate and Killian may not deserve it but it definitely felt like something. He'd earned the trust of one Charming and it wasn't much but maybe it was enough. 

When the film finishes Leo grips hold of Killian's t-shirt.   
"The crocodile didn't really get you did he?" 

"Gold?" He asks and Leo nods, worry in his eyes. 

"No," he smiles. "Before I left, the crocodile was dying. He was bad so his heart turned black." Killian says, not sure if Leo understood any of that. 

"And then Emma used magic and pulled all the black out. The dark was going to get everyone but Emma and Momma and Daddy made it disappear." Leo recites as if telling a story. 

Killian smiles, of course Emma would have saved everyone.   
"Your sister is brave, Lad." 

Leo nods in agreement, wide eyed.   
"She doesn't have magic anymore but I saw her one time. She stopped Henry when he burned." He babbles excitedly and Killian smiles again, eyes shining.

"Crocodile can't be a bad man anymore. Mommy said that he and Belle had a baby and they lived happily ever after." Killian tries not to roll his eyes at the term of phrase. 

Henry's the first to wake and he stumbles into the room with mussed hair. Leo pushes himself off the sofa and clings onto Henry's leg. 

"Henry! You were right. Captain Hook isn't bad." He exclaims and Henry blushes picking Leo up and setting him on his hip as he picks another movie and puts it on. 

"He has a name you know." He says to Leo as he sits down on the sofa with the little boy on his lap.

"He's called Killian." Leo looks at Henry for a long moment and then looks at Killian. 

"Killian, have you got a ship?" And he laughs at the way his name sounds coming from the tiny boy's mouth. 

"Aye." 

"Can I see it?"

"Maybe one day." 

He leaves the boys watching the lion king to have a shower and he comes back to see everyone awake, dressed and eating. 

"Really Killian, beans?" Regina scoffs raising an eyebrow. 

Killian throws her a bewildered expression and a shrug. 

"It's all we've got Regina." Snow sighs. 

"We're going to go riding, all of us." David tells him. Does us include him? 

"Is that a good idea?" He asks concerned about what he saw yesterday. David gives him a knowing look, so Emma had told him about the murder they'd witnessed. 

"It's in the countryside, it'll be fine. I've asked the stable, they've had no problems." He reassures and Killian nods. 

Us means everyone, even the little ones. They bundle into David's truck and Emma's bug and it's a squeeze but somehow they make it work. 

Just as David had said, the stables was as calm and quiet as it would have been before any of this started. There's horses for each person, Roland riding with Regina and Leo with the Prince. 

The day was warmer than the ones before, the wind dropping to leave cool air, the sun warming everything it touched. 

Killian hadn't ridden in such a long time now that once he'd saddled up he was anxious to get on. Henry had given him a smirk from on top of his horse and it was almost a challenge. He hauls his body, in what he hopes is a graceful manner, up and onto his white one. 

Charming and Leo led the way through the marked path in the woods, Leo clapping his hands and smiling like he'd been given the sun. 

He's never seen Emma ride before but like most things she did she seemed a natural. He tries not to get caught up in the way the wind moved her hair or the way her hips move in perfect timing with her horse. 

Considering the length of time since he last went riding, he's not too bad. He keeps up with the group and him and Henry fall into step together. They ride for a long time, Killian wishing he had on shorts like Robin and David. His jeans stick to his thighs and hair to his head but the feeling of riding is like no other. He was gonna miss this, wind in his hair, sun on his face, flying through the air. 

After a short break, laying on the grass with bottles of water, they decide to head back as the sun falls behind the trees. 

Killian trails behind, watching the group as quips are thrown back and forth, light teasing and laughs filling the air. He tries to press it into his brain, imprint it into his mind as to not forget a single moment. He tries to remember the feel of the rhythmic thuds beneath him, the feeling of weightlessness and then he squeezes his heals, catching up. 

Henry's lips twitch in a small smile when Killian steers his horse next to him. They contrast greatly, Killian's white horse next to Henry's dark brown one. 

Henry kicks his feet, trotting slightly faster so he was ahead and if Killian didn't feel so light he would have taken it as a sign to keep back. It feels different somehow so he does the same, pushing his horse forward to keep next to Henry's side. He throws Henry a gentle smirk and Henry narrows his eyes at him, another challenge. 

It's suddenly a race, both kicking harder, pressing forward, small giggle from the younger. It's tense, both flying faster than they had all day, lips held between teeth, lines in foreheads with concentration. 

The consistent thuds of 8 legs against the ground creates some sort of soundtrack. With sweat on his forehead, his limbs tight, straining with effort, Killian gets a few inches a head. He's not sure where it comes from but a manic laugh bubbles out of him, melodic happiness breaking through his lips. He doesn't remember the last time he really laughed and it feels so good. 

Henry scoffs behind him and he can picture the lad rolling those eyes of his.   
"C'mon boy." He hears and then they're neck and neck again, racing towards the clearing in the trees, sticks snapping under the hooves, heads ducking under branches. 

Henry laughs then, his whole head tipped back and the nose of his horse is just in front of Killian's. Killian scowls at Henry's smug smile and for the last few metres the two use everything they have to race to what they've both deemed the finish line without actually speaking. They pass Charming and he calls out a "be careful" to Henry but it's lost in the wind and they both fly through the clearing at the exact same time. 

As they slow their horses, both are laughing and panting. Henry slides off his horse and rolls onto the grass, laying on his back, huge smile on his face. Nostalgia comes in waves, washing over Killian in a way that makes his tired knees weak, his heaving chest catch. 

"I think it was a tie." Henry says, turning his head to the side and squinting up at Killian. The darkening sun turns his eyes a lighter shade of green, bits of brown there too. 

It holds something else and he knows Henry can feel it, he sits up, still looking at Killian. He's throwing him some sort of life line. 

"No, you were definitely ahead of me, lad." Killian smiles, gentle softness in his voice. 

Henry's smile widens and he grins at Killian the way Leo had been smiling earlier and it warms his heart, fills some of the hole in his chest. The others come through the clearing then, one after the other. Regina was simultaneously attempting to sooth a crying Roland and steer her black horse towards the stables.

Emma hops down as soon as they're close, taking a nodding Leo from David. He lays his head on Emma instantly, shutting his tired eyes as she carries him back to the car. Mary Margaret and Robin high five over something unknown and David comes and ruffles Henry's hair. 

They brush down their horses, before filing back into the cars, all exhausted but content. 

The sky darkens before they've even got back to the cottage and it's another clear night, stars everywhere. 

"Could you hold Leo a second Killian?" Mary Margaret asks, indicating to the tiny sleeping boy in her arms. 

He looks completely at peace, like the baby he still is and Killian's heart aches a little. He hesitates, eyes flickering to her face and them back down at Leo. 

"I er..." He scratches the back of his neck, holding out his left hand, metal glinting in the moon light. 

"I don't want to hurt him." And Mary Margaret looks at his hook, then his right hand and frowns. 

"It's okay, you won't." She says and there's something there that shouldn't be, in her voice and in her eyes. 

She's giving him trust, trusting him with something she values more than her own life.

He swallows, searching her face to make sure she doesn't change her mind and she nods towards the boy, moving closer so Killian can reach him. He doesn't understand where her trust comes from. Hadn't he already hurt one of her children?

Using his right arm, he scoops up her son around his back, promising himself that wouldn't hurt the other one. He's surprised when Leo's small body fits in just one arm, he wasn't expecting him to be so light and he holds him against him. 

Leo stirs slightly, opening sleepy eyes and when he see's Killian he smiles softly before resting his head on the Pirates shoulder.

Killian shifts so that his left arm is under the boys bum, making sure that his hook is nowhere near him and holding Leo's back with his right, rubbing gentle circles and rocking slightly on his feet. 

Leo snuggles in closer to Killian's neck and when he looks up he finds Snow looking at him with eyes that say "I told you so" and a smile holding traces of something he doesn't recognise. 

Then she moves to shake Roland awake   and guides him into the house, leaving Killian following behind, soothing a sleeping child that looks too much like Emma and holding a want for something he can never have. 

Once inside Emma looks at him with an expression he cant read and she moves to take Leo off him. He bends down slightly holding his arms in a way that makes it easier for her but as her hand brushes his she stops. Her eyes flicker up to his and there's something there. He swallows hard, the tension between them tight enough to snap and he searches her eyes for traces of what's running through his own head. It's too much like the future he would have wanted, too much of a real picture of what it would have been like. Emma changes her mind then, eyes telling him that she can't, she just can't. She turns away and he hands the boy back to Mary Margaret. She wakes him for dinner and then puts him to bed. 

 

When the house goes quiet, Killian goes on a search for a glass of water but when he shuffles to the kitchen the light is still on and there a shadowy figure nursing a hot drink. He steps through the door way and of course it's her, who else would it be? 

They both dealt with problems the same way, in solitude at night. They were too similar for their own good, had too many similar experiences, heartbreaks, losses. Maybe that's why they were such a good fit, used to be such a good fit. 

He turns to leave but she coughs quietly. She looks at him and he stands on the step, one foot in the shadows and one illuminated. He waits for an invitation or a dismissal but nothing comes and he really should stay away but he's caught up thinking about 8 days again. He's tired of waiting alone in the dark. 

He takes a step forward and she indicates to the hot kettle. He finds a mug and she pushes the hot cocoa powder across the table. The refusal is on his tongue but he can't bring himself to say it, he takes it with a nod and mixes it with the steaming water.

He sips it then, burning his tongue before he takes a chair opposite her. It tastes a lot like something familiar, a lot like home and something like heartbreak. 

The unspoken words hang in the air thickly, making it harder to breathe. 

They sit in silence, the damn clock ticking loudly and he can't stop himself from glancing at her. She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes. He thinks of something to say, anything to say, but all she deserves from him is an apology and he's struggling, he really is. Words will never be enough. 

"Dream?" She asks after a while and he shakes his head at her assumption, realising that it's twice now that he hasn't asked her why she was awake in the middle of the night. 

"Can't sleep." He says as an explanation and they both know that he hasn't even tried. 

She nods, sipping her drink and pretending look at her fingernails. She lets out a breath before she speaks and he knows what's coming, what's been coming for a long time.

"Why are you......what are you doing here?" And she doesn't look up at him, staring at the top of her drink. He hates how she pretends that he hasn't hurt her. 

"You already know, love." He says gently.

And he knows his eyes could burn a hole in her head but he needs her to look at him. His throat closes up, restricts him from saying the words he wants to. There's only one reason, isn't there?

"No I don't." And he regrets wanting her to look at him because when she looks up her eyes are dark, voice icy. 

She waits, not breaking eye contact, not swaying from the hard way she was looking at him. 

"I'd go to the end of the world for you, Swan. If I could, I'd find a way to save every person that you love and I'd stop the sun from laying a hand on you, even if it destroyed me." Every word is honest and maybe he was wrong before, he didn't have complete trust but he did have truth. 

He didn't have the power to save the earth or the one he loved but what did it matter? He was here, and if she let him he'd fulfil that promise he made her a whole life ago. Not that he deserved to, not that she would want him to.

"Killian." It's supposed to be a warning, there's the skittish look in her eyes that she used to have way back after she kissed him for the first time. 

It's the first time she's said his name in three years and it shouldn't sound like that, why does it sound like that? It doesn't act as a deterrent, only invites him in further. It's the first bit of something he's had since he arrived. It's better than the calm nothingness. 

"Emma, it was never my intention to hurt you." He speaks softly and he sees her tense at that. A pained expression crossing her face, disbelief following. 

"You didn't hurt me, you destroyed me." She says suddenly and it's firm, tinged with anger but her voice just breaks. She squeezes her eyes shut at the slip.

He doesn't want it like this, he'd rather her shout at him, hit him. He'd rather her cut him with words. Then again maybe he wouldn't. Her pain affects him more than her anger ever could. 

"I destroyed us both. And I can never forgive myself for it." He speaks, leaning closer to her across the table. 

He kicks himself after he's said it, talking about himself again, selfish always so selfish. This wasn't about him, it was about her, it's always about her. 

"Mom told me, she told me why." She breathes, eyes still emotionless, walls still up.

He doesn't answer that because his reasoning is so much less then what she deserves. There's quiet for a moment and his silence annoys her. 

"You're the biggest idiot I've ever known Killian." Her eyes are wet and she sighs, defeated.   
He hangs his head, trying to keep a grasp on his own pain. 

Her shoulders grow tight, "The biggest fucking idiot." It's said through gritted teeth, the curse hitting him right where it hurts. 

She softens a little, pain in her eyes replacing the fire for the next sentence. 

"I used to think of you as someone that would never ever hurt me." Her voice breaks and so does the remaining price of his heart. 

He nods because he can't speak, because he knows it's true, because he hates himself for it. Her eyes grow glassy as she stands up, hand pushing back her hair, red cheeked and more beautiful in her anger than ever. 

"Don't just take it! Say something!" She raises her voice, losing control of her calm and that's what he wanted but now he's scared. 

He just looks at her, eyes giving out all he is, barely holding back the river. 

"Just give me something!" She shouts, shaking with anger as she rapidly breathes to get a hold on herself. 

He stands at that, something clicking inside of him. His chair scrapes loudly against the tiled floor. She wants him to fight, she wants him to give all he has. Well he's already a broken man, what else could he lose? He looks into the churning eyes of the answer to that question. 

"Bloody hell Swan, I know!" He raises his voice, clenching his fist as the water in his eyes stings. 

Burning self hatred fills his whole body, twisting his gut, stabbing his heart. He gives a bitter, self depreciating laugh, voice making her shiver with its low tone.

"I struggle to live with it everyday. I hate myself!" He cries, breathing deeply, gritting his own teeth as he speaks. "I despise every fibre of my being." Seething with a fury not meant for her but for himself. "I didn't want to live anymore, not without you." And that's what does it, that's where he loses it, tremors down his spine, tears he no longer cares about down his cheeks. 

She gasps a little at that, but it doesn't soften her. 

"Then why did it take you until now to come back? Three years Killian! Three long and meaningless years!" 

Her voice is loud and sharp enough to wake somebody up but it doesn't matter now. He doesn't have an answer because he's a selfish man that destroys the hearts of those around him.

"You come back when the worlds ending, when there's 12 days. You come back and now I have one more person to watch die, one more person to lose!" And finally her anger runs out, honest grief and terror sparking her eyes.

She still cares about him. He's come back and now she has another person who she's going to lose, again.   
She's blurry beneath his god forsaken eyes and his gut jumps again. 

"Just go home, Killian." And it's final, ringing in the air around them.

The knife twists then because no, he can't leave, he doesn't want to leave now. If she asks him to go he'll be left with nothing. He panics, grief striking his stomach.

"I don't have a home." He whispers and it's more like a whimper and he'd be embarrassed if he wasn't so afraid of losing everything that mattered. He takes a breath. 

"I've got a battered ship, a cold ocean and an empty chest." She looks at him then and, regarding her with such a careful expression, showing her how much she means to him "You are my home." He adds.

"Stop it." She says immediately, face twisting into a mixture of grief and loss, pacing up and down, but he can't stop it. 

She spins back to look at him and shakes her head, lip between her teeth. 

"Don't look at me like that." She moans and her shield slips further, he sees beneath it and oh god. 

"Like what?" He asks, voice weak and trembling. 

"Like...." She runs her hands through her hair again as Killian stays as still as possible. "Like I'm your everything." And it's so quiet he barely catches it.

"I don't know how else to look at you." He says honestly, stepping closer to her around the table. 

"Killian." Another warning, this time with softer eyes, a weaker voice. 

"I can't live without you so I sure as hell cant die without you. You want more time then make it all stop. Save us all." He murmurs with a shaking voice, gesturing wildly with his hands, trying to control the unchecked emotion running through him. 

"I can't." She whispers, her whole body limp with defeat. 

"No, I know you can't." It's softer and acting on pure impulse of the heartbreaking look in her eyes, he steps closer, leaving not even an inch between their heaving bodies. 

She flinches and he hates it, he hates himself. He takes a deep breath then as her hands come up to his chest slowly, hesitantly, resting one over his rapidly beating heart and the other the opposite side. Ready to push him away, ready to pull him in. He's suddenly forgotten the difference. He can almost feel them through his shirt, searing her fingerprints into his skin through the material. He remembers her hands against his skin all those times before and he fights the way his body aches to press her closer. 

The familiar warmth radiates through him and that smell of cinnamon and leather and something a little like strawberries surrounds him. In a moment of weakness he leans down, head resting against hers and he tries not to, he really does but it's a magnetic force and he doesn't have the strength to hold back. 

She loses her resolve then, bites her lip, green eyes overflowing and he needs to apologise, he needs to get down on his knees, he needs to give every last bit he has to make up for what he did. 

"But you can save me, saviour." Is what comes out instead. It's broken, voice a mixture of gravel and velvet, so raw, so helpless. 

She tilts her head in what must be an action of her own weakness, their noses brush, a tear falling down her cheek and everything about it reminds him of the time he told her that she was his happy ending. It's the opposite of that, tears of heartbreak not love and he couldn't prevent his own vulnerability even if he wanted to. 

For a second he thinks she's going to pull away, he doesn't move, doesn't breathe, it has to be her choice, always her choice. She's trembling and he loves her with so much of himself that if she doesn't kiss him right now it'll kill him. 

Emma sucks in a breath, shutting gentle eyes, fingers bending and holding onto the material at his chest. It feels like such a long moment but it's really only seconds.

Her lips are so gentle against his, ghosting. She kisses him like she needed to be kissed, like she was aching all over. It's soft, is the first thing he notices. She whispers something that sounds like his name into his mouth and god he's missed her so much. He presses against her firmly but gently, hand laying on the side of her face as he kisses her with all the love of three years. Giving everything he has, hoping she feels it. 

The woosh he's expecting doesn't come, magic doesn't fall from their lips, the world isn't blasted with shimmering white light. Hell, he wasn't even sure that she loved him. 

True love's kiss wouldn't save the world but he already knew that. This is not a fairytale. 

When he pulls back, he's weak. Her lips are pink and her cheeks tinted red. The green inside her eyes is swallowed up by black and she's looking at him with a spark of something old.

He moves his hand gently from her face, finding her hand still gripped over his heart. He lifts his head so it's no longer resting on hers but neither step back. She keeps their fingers entwined and he lifts their joined hands up to his lips kissing the back of her hand softly. 

"I'm sorry." He whimpers, emotion jumping down his throat. It's not enough and it never will be but his voice cracks with sincerity. "I'm so so sorry." No matter how honest and broken it is, it's worthless. 

"I know." She simply says and he's not sure if that makes him feel better or worse. 

Taking a few more breaths he watches as she finds his eyes again and there's a small shake of her head. He knows what that means because he knows her and he knows her insecurities and when she can't handle things. He holds still as she untangles her fingers, steps back and turns to leave. 

He follows her up the stairs and she stops in the doorway to the room she was staying in.   
"Goodnight Swan." He whispers and she doesn't say a thing just holds his gaze for a moment, looking like she wants to say something but she doesn't. Then she turns and shuts the door behind her. 

He knows that in the morning she'll have her guard back up but tonight she shuts herself away from him as he stands leaking guts in a pile on the floor.


	7. 7 days

7 days. One whole week and maybe it hurts a bit more now. 

Waking early, Killian sits on the floor of the shower, back against the wall, head in his hands, self loathing on his skin. He can't stop seeing her face twisted in that way that aches his soul. 

3 years ago he'd pulled his most famous disappearing act yet. Out of her life. He left her and left their town and their, what could have been, family. He left his friends and he left behind his heart. Then he came back at the world's end and apologised to her. And when he thinks that there's a possibility that she may forgive him, he sits in her car for an hour and cries harder than he did when he left her. 

"Where's Killian?" Emma asks. It had a taken a long time for her to grow enough guts to leave her and Henry's room and when she finally does he's not even lurking around the way he usually is. 

She tries to keep it calm but the worried panic comes through and she's probably not fooling anyone. Her mother turns, gentle look in her eyes that she has every time Emma shows her vulnerability, every time she's reminded of her daughters tendencies of mistrust. 

"He's about somewhere." She says, keeping it light, she doesn't believe he'd leave Emma again like that but Emma does and the need to reassure her is strong. 

She nods at her mother, vacant eyes, hiding behind a straight face, guard up. Mary Margaret hadn't seen that look in a long time but she guesses it's justified. 

She watches as Emma casually leaves the room and she listens as she searches each room, both upstairs and downstairs, and when Emma comes back she does nothing to hide her frantic anxiety. She had told him to go home last night, had he actually listened? 

"No?" Her mother says, eyebrow raised and she frowns as Emma shakes her head, sigh leaving her lips. 

He can't leave her again, he's only just come back.   
It shouldn't bother her, it's been three damned years but who is she kidding? 

"Have you checked outside?" And Emma doesn't answer, just moves to the backdoor. "Please no." She utters under her breath, heart speeding up and Mary Margaret moves to help her look then. 

"Found him!" She calls to her daughter who audibly catches her breath. 

She's looking out the window at the front of the house and as Emma comes up behind she points to the yellow car on the drive. There he was, dark shadow, just visible through the windscreen. 

"Relax." Mary Margaret soothes, gently stroking through Emma's hair. 

Her daughter turns into her then, laying her head on the elders shoulder. Mary Margaret pulls her closer with an arm around her. 

"It's okay," She says gently, kissing the top of Emma's head. "Nothing has to change you know."

"It's already changed. It's different now, everything is different." Emma whispers back taking a breath before she moves from her mothers arms and out of the front door. 

She's in two minds, one that screams of heartbreak and one that remembers nothing but the sun. 7 days and he hurt her. 7 days and does that even matter now? 

The wind whips at her skin instantly and she longs for her jacket. Her feet crunch on the gravel and when she's close enough to see him properly he looks up from resting his head on his arms against the steering wheel. 

Her breath falls from her the moment she does and his face is practically torn in half. Eyes red and running, scrunched in unbearable emotion and out of everything, she was not expecting that. Hesitating, she steady's herself before opening the door and sliding in the passenger side. 

He turns his face from her, scrubbing his hand over his eyes and she reaches out to stop him, hand on top of his, pulling it away from his eyes, tilting him towards her. He sniffs, haunted eyes shining a bright blue and he looks at her in that way that burns her entirety. She aches, she just aches. 

He never used to show her things like this, he has thick skin, almost as thick as her own. Here he was, letting her see his wounds, letting her see it all. 

Without thinking about it, without meaning to, her body reacts in that impulsive way it always did when she was around him. Her thumb rubs his cheeks, the left running over the slightly rougher skin of his scar. She wipes away tracks of his sadness and he watches her the whole time, body heaving as he tries to calm down. Neither of them speak, last night's words running through what is probably both of their minds. 

She leans across the seat, hand-break digging into her side but she couldn't care less. She searches his face, looking for something and she doesn't even know what it was. He attempts a small smile then, half heartedly through his pain and she wants to tell him to stop it again. He can't keep looking at her like that, like he only had a heart except for the times he looked at her. 

He's so far from the man she used to know, she wonders if there's any of the old him left. But his eyes, his eyes are always the same. 

"Wanna talk about it?" She murmurs, voice smooth and warm and she's not sure where that came from. 

He shakes his head no, looking at her curiously as if wondering why she's here, why she cares, and honestly she's thinking the same thing. She cautiously reaches out her fingers to push his messy hair back from his eyes it's an impulse she can't fight, one that she doesn't want to fight. 

"Okay." And it's whispered in the quiet space of the car. 

She has an idea of what's got him like this and it's confirmed when he then won't look at her then, eyes shut or turned down. 

"Emma I'm-" he attempts to apologise again but there's no point. He's made it clear already. 

"Killian." She says gently and the look across his face says it all. It's tired and it's sad and it's full of regret and awful sincerity. She sucks in a breath.

The only thing worse than having your heart broken by someone who doesn't care, is having your heart broken by someone who does.

"No more. It's okay." And he nods, taking a breath that sounds like another apology. He can't beat himself up forever.

"I don't want to be alone," he says into the green of her eyes, fear showing in his voice and in every one of his bones. "not anymore." He adds because it was his choice before, his move, he was alone due to his own doing. 

"You're not." She sighs, softness in her voice because yeah she was angry, yeah he broke her a long time ago, but he's broken too. 

He's sorry and he's broken and that has to mean something, right? There's 7 god damned days left, and she can't fight herself anymore. 

She pulls away, catching his defeated sigh, before she gets out, walking round and opening the drivers door, taking his hand and tugging him out. 

He comply's, standing with his back against the cold metal, head bowed and shoulders hunched. She looks at him and wonders how he ever managed to hurt her so much. He looks back and wonders the same thing. 

The tempest in his eyes reaches its peak as his chest still searches for air. The blue swirls violently, surging, reaching and retreating until it stops. Lids shut tight as his body shakes, with what? Something like pain, something like finally just feeling. She steps closer, filling the gap between them with warmth and just like that the storm stops, last wave falling, residue tears trailing down reddened cheeks. 

It feels like such a long time that they both wait, both searching for what they want or need whilst fighting against it all the while. She watches it all, sees the war going on inside every cell of his body, the fighting going on in his very soul. He hates what he did almost as much as she does, what's the point in holding a grudge? 

And that's when she gives it all up, goes with her heart instead of her head. The world was going to end anyway. 

Actions speak louder than words and her guard comes crashing down, fragile light exposed but trust is still there, hope clinging to the surface. Soft hands grip his leather shoulders and his eyelashes flicker to reveal calm blue, still holding so much water, leaking down his face. 

Then he falls against her as her arms pull him in, his head pressed against the skin between her neck and shoulder. One hand finds his hair, running her fingers through it like she hadn't done in years and it's familiar texture almost has her losing it. The other rests on his back, rubbing until he relaxes under her touch. His arms find her waist, wrapping around like he never wanted to let go as vibrations of left over sobs run through his chest. 

"I want the big ego pirate back." She teases weakly, voice strained though it's still gentle. 

"He's lost." He chokes against her, wrecked voice that breaks on lost. 

"Hey, shhhh." She soothes, pressing him closer to her body, shielding him from the cold, though he was warmer than herself. 

He squeezes her hip at that, breathing her into his lungs, filling the dark space in his chest with her light. 

Emma waits until he's back in control of himself before she leads him back inside and Mary Margaret raises an eyebrow at her but she ignores it completely. She pushes Killian into the chair he had sat in last night and pours him a coffee from the already made pot. 

"Emma." He murmurs as she moves about the kitchen, distracting herself from him. 

She turns at that, becoming completely still and she doesn't flinch when he says her name so he counts it as an achievement. Her mothers eyes hesitantly roam Emma's face and it should make her uncomfortable but it's not because it's Killian that she's looking at and he's seeming to be able to take up every space in her brain. His eyes are wet and 

"Thank you." He presses, voice thick with meaning. 

He's not sure what he's thanking her for exactly. Maybe her understanding, her comfort, that she hasn't made him leave, that she's even speaking to him. And she nods, weak smile, eyes flickering over his face. He hopes he doesn't look as bad as he feels. 

She leaves him on the sofa, remote in his hand that he has no idea how to work, but old reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S play and he welcomes the distraction. His head hurts and he feels anything but good. Confusion runs through every inch of him, causes his skin to crawl because he once told Emma she was something of an open book but he doesn't know if it's the time he spent apart from her of if its just change but he can't figure anything out. 

Keeping his mind off of her isn't possible, and even if it was for a single second, he still has on that same old leather jacket and it just smells like her. 

He watches as Charming helps the three boys make a fort out of blankets and beanbags and pillows and maybe Henry's a little too old for that but what does it matter now? 

He's not sure when he falls asleep but he knows he's been in the same position for hours due to the kink in his neck when Regina wakes him. She tells him he looks rough and he sort of gathered that but then a softness fills out her face that he's not quite accustomed to and she sends him upstairs with a glass of water and two pills. 

Drifting in and out of sleep doesn't exactly help his troubled mind. He can only describe his head as being filled with white noise. His stomach wakes him fully and he guesses that has something to do with the smell filling the house. The bathroom mirror shows the redness of his eyes and he splashes his face to cool down before attempting to flatten his unruly hair. 

He joins everyone for dinner and he's not sure if it's the food or what Regina gave him earlier but something definitely clears his head. The conversation is hard for him to follow and he can feel Emma's eyes on him but he can't face her now. He's too tired of only being able to look at her when he wants so much more. 

The boys are excited about sleeping in their homemade tent and when they all finally crash, the younger two having worn Henry out, they're all huddled up together in the softness. Everyone is relieved but the sight of them creates more than just a fondness. 

When Killian's alone again, in the room that always feels cold, he's not tired, well not mentally anyway. His body weighs him down, exhaustion dripping from his bones but he can't shut his thoughts off and that's when a gentle knock startles him out of bed. 

Killian opens the door and of course it's her who stands there with courage on her shoulders and fearlessness in her eyes. She doesn't speak a greeting, just looks straight into his eyes as he loses the ability to breathe. 

"The world is going to end." Her voice is quiet but the statement is clear and it reminds him of when he first knocked on the door of the house that he shouldn't keep calling home. 

He didn't know what that was supposed to mean then and he still doesn't know now. The distance between them is palpable and it takes him a good moment to reply, all thick deep voice and haunted eyes.

"The world ended for me a long time ago." He counters, unsure of almost everything. 

The long blink is the only indication that she takes notice of his words before she shivers. 

"Why do you have it so cold?" She asks, frown in her forehead. 

"It's been like this since I got here." He answers, confusion in his face.

She moves around him and into the room, flicking up a bit of carpet next to the radiator and turning a metal screw. There's a sound of running water and then it's almost an instant heat that fills the room but maybe that came in with her.

"How did you do that?" He asks, a hint of wonder and surprise. 

"It gets stuck sometimes, this is where I stay when me and Henry visit." She says quietly and he doesn't answer that. Just her and Henry.

"You never gave your heart to anyone else?" He asks, it suddenly dawning on him that it's been 3 years and she hasn't mentioned anyone else. He doesn't mean to turn it so heavy but the words are out before he can take them back. 

She deserved to be with someone who loved her, not alone, but he burns when he thinks about her with someone who wasn't him.

Her eyes flit across his face, looking at him like he's missed something.

"There was no one else." She says gently, quietly and his heart jumps at that.

"What about you?" 

"No," He shakes his head with a tight lipped smile. "I've only got one heart, I only know one way to love. It's yours, it always will be." 

She nods, eyes a darker shade. 

"I don't do anything in halves, Swan."

"Tell me about it." She rolls her eyes sarcastically but it's not harsh, it's not supposed to hurt and her face holds an apology at his flinch from the sting.

She takes a step closer and he tells himself he should step back but he just can't. He can't force himself to stay away from her.

"I can't stay away from you, no matter how hard I try." Her voice wavers as she shakes her hair back from her eyes and he wonders whether he thought that out loud. 

"And we've got a week until we die and I'm not so sure I want to stay away from you." The honesty in her eyes is so raw he almost loses himself.

"Swan." This time it's him with the warning, with the refusal, because he knows how much he hurt her and if she should do anything it should be to never forgive him, to keep her distance. He knows this, no matter how much he wants the opposite. 

"The hat you gave Henry belonged to your brother?" She asks and Killian's eyes flicker as he watches the way something dances in hers. She must have found the small "Liam Jones" etched into the material. 

"Aye. It belongs to a man with honour."  He nods, words soft but pressing and he watches the way they jump through her skin. 

"Killian I..." She mumbles looking down at her hands, trailing off with uncertainty. He takes her unease as an indicator of her weariness with him.

"I can never earn your trust back, I know that. That's not what I ask." His voice is so small and she immediately shakes her head, he's got it wrong. 

"That's not what I..." She takes a breath. "I'm tired of fighting this, I.... I can't stay away from you, Killian." And her eyes are locked on his and it takes every last shred of his strength to keep the distance between them. 

"Emma, you're upset and tired." 

"And in the morning I'll feel exactly the same." 

"You don't know that." 

"Killian listen to me." She says frustratedly and then takes a breath to calm down.

She opens her mouth but changes her mind, catching the longing in his eyes and in the set of his jaw. He was holding back, he wanted to stop fighting it maybe even more so then she did herself. He was doing everything in his power to stop himself from hurting her again, she realises that now. 

She steps forward, closer to him and this time he does step back until the backs of his knees hit the bed and then he swallows. Something draws her in, the way it always had before, and maybe it's the sight of him wide open and leaking everything in front of her feet. 

No words pass between and as foreheads tilt, she breathes him in, heads tenderly resting as one gets lost in a forest and the other drowns at sea. She checks his eyes and there's nothing there but love and then she's pushing warm lips against his. 

He doesn't move at first, then a soft whimper escapes him and her hands move to his neck, to his hair, pulling him against her in an action that's all, "I forgive you, you bastard." 

His hand and hook cautiously find her hips, pressing her closer before he allows his lips to move back, proving to her the love that never left, hand coming up to the side of her face, fingers slipping through silky strands. I love you, it says. Bloody hell, I love you. 

When his lips are free of hers, only traces of her there, he keeps quiet because words frighten her and those might be the most honest ones he's yet to speak.

She looks at him, pleading, and he may understand now but he's still uncertain. The moonlight turns her hair silver, making it harder for him to not let her in. He doesn't say a word, just drinks in the way her pale skin turns to shadows in the dark and the way her eyes shine brighter than they ever could in the sun. He hesitates, the hand on her face lifting, fingers untangling from rays of blonde. He still doesn't know the line between what he wants and what she wants and he couldn't possibly know what it all means.

No breath is taken, eyes boring into her for what feels like the time it takes for the sun to set.   
She sighs then, and it's time up. Taking his silence as an answer, she stands back from him, taking her hands from his skin. She looks at him, heartbreaking, almost empty eyes, before walking out the room, leaving him with jumbled up thoughts and that familiar sinking feeling of hateful regret. 

Killian waits all of ten minutes before he makes up his mind and he prays it's not too late. He strips down to a cotton shirt and his boxer briefs and he moves to her room before he can over think everything. 

He clicks his hook against the wood of her door and pushes it open gently when he hears a soft beckoning.

"Swan, I..."

She lifts the duvet up at one side and his throat constricts, cutting any other words off. Choked, he shuffles across the carpet, abandoning all of his mind's protests. He slides in next to her, taking Henry's side and the sheets are so warm on his cold skin that he can't help the shiver than runs through him. 

They lay in silence, inches between their bodies, pretending the warmth from the other is enough. Except it isn't. 

It's way into the night and he knows she isn't asleep from the sound of her breathing. He whispers her name across the space in between them and she turns to face him with vulnerable eyes.

She holds a hand across the bed to him. 

"Love, I..." And he doesn't finish, just takes her hand, gripping her fingers and using it to pull her closer, relief flooding his chest. 

Her chest presses against his and she tucks her head under his chin just below him on the pillow. He loses his breath and he has to count her heartbeat against his own to calm him down. 

The closeness has his head screaming finally and his heart shouting home and all that you see is not a fairytale, but maybe it bloody well could be.


	8. 6 days

Emma wakes slowly, stretching her limbs. It takes a moment for her mind to come back to her and the course of the night suddenly slams into her heart. Her eyes open wide but the bed beside her is empty, no trace that he'd even been there. 

Her shoulders immediately tense and she forces herself to stop gripping the cold and empty sheets, to take a breath.

She doesn't believe he'd leave again but it's happened before and that part of her mind likes to remind her of that. 

Mind a muddled mess of confusion, she tiptoes out of her room but his bedroom door is open and no one is inside. Her breathing quickens as anxiety floods into her blood and she commands herself to stop it, not that that does much good. 

Padding down the stairs, she's braced for something she wishes would stop happening to her (life seems to enjoy to screwing her over again and again) and as she makes her way to the kitchen she stops in the living room doorway. 

There's a loud shriek of excitement from Leo and she leans against the doorframe to see Killian, Henry and Leo standing on a mass of oddly arranged cushions on the floor. Her heart stutters in relief and her shoulders drop, lip released from its firm hold in her teeth. 

Leo was holding a paper plate in his little hands, arms stretched out and turning the plate to and fro. On his head was Killian's old hat, so large that it was falling into his eyes. 

"All aboard!" He shouts and Killian holds his hand to his head in a mock salute.   
"Aye aye, Captain Leo." And Leo giggles at that.

Killian's face breaks into a fond smile, all scrunched eyes, and as she watches her heart flips. Despite every one of her better judgements a promise she made to herself is broken now. She wasn't going to do this, she wasn't, but the world is ending and he's a broken man full of regret and sorrow and maybe that changes things. 

"Man the deck!" Leo shouts and Killian holds up a fishing rod with a blanket tied to it, obviously meant as a sail. Emma smiles despite herself. 

Then Henry jumps in front of Leo, a fake scowl on his face, wooden sword in his hand. 

"Give me your treasure!" He growls and Leo looks startled but then he laughs. 

"Pirate! Pirate!" Leo shrieks, dropping the paper plate and clapping his little hands. Killian puts the "sail" down and pulls out another wooden sword from the waistband of his shorts. 

"A thief! Captain Leo, doesn't tolerate thieving pirates on this ship! That's bad form lad!" Killian acts, holding his wooden sword pointed at Henry. 

"You'll have to fight me then, Pirate!" Henry smiles, a challenge in his eyes. 

Killian smirks and then the two are moving backwards and forwards, twisting and turning, swords smacking together. Henry had gotten quite good at it from practising with David and Killian had obviously not fought in a long time but he could still hold his own. Leo watches the pair with wide eyes, enthralled by the scene. 

Henry jumps onto the sofa out of the way but Killian surprises him and leaps for another blanket, pulling the sword from Henry's hand. He holds the boys arms down and wraps it round Henry's arms and waist.

"Gotcha!" He laughs and Leo squeals in happiness. Henry pretends to wriggle free.

"What do you think Captain Leo?" Killian asks, eyebrow raised as little Leo runs over to his side. "Should we make him walk the plank?" 

"Walk the plank!" Leo shouts again and thank God they don't have neighbours. 

Killian nudges Henry's back with the sword and Henry walks along the sofa until he reaches the end. Killian nudges him again but all of sudden Henry breaks free of his restraint and jumps at Killian, knocking him to the floor.   
Killian laughs a real deep sound and Leo jumps on his chest. He squirms as the boys attack him, laughing like Emma hadn't heard in such a long time. Killian picks the three year old up with one hand and holds him above his head whilst Leo lets out little mischievous giggles. 

"Cute huh?" Her mother's voice from behind her makes her jump.  
She doesn't answer and Mary Margaret pushes a mug of hot cocoa into her hands. She takes it gratefully, her confused heart feeding her feelings of regret and sadness as her mind tells her to get out of there before she falls any deeper. 

The hat had fallen off of Leo the moment he jumped on Killian and Emma turns back to see Killian ruffling a laughing Henry's hair before placing the hat on his head. Henry grins at him, something radiating off his smile that she hadn't seen a such a long time and she knows what it is but she's scared to name it. He looks up and notices that his mother was in the room. 

Giving her a sheepish look, he takes the hat off, looking down at it in his hands, running his finger around the rim. She loves and hates his loyalty to her. He shouldn't feel the guilt that she can see in his eyes, because of Killian and what he did her. She may even be past all that now. Henry loved him once and she can see that nothing's changed. 

"Looks good on you Kid." She calls gently, and he surveys her with a curious look before he seems to understand and he half smiles, placing it back on his head. 

"Keep it." Killian says, that sincere look in his eyes that Emma knows is only there when he does something for someone he cares about. 

Pushing himself up off the floor, he glances up at her then, a slight pink in his cheeks as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. His eyes pull her in and she has to physically hold herself back from walking across the room to where he stands. His gaze holds her with such a carefulness that she aches for him, it's warm and it's safe and its more like home than her house has ever been. But then his body changes, the relaxed ease disappears, his eyes find the floor and the only way she can describe it is that he's being cautious. To hell with that now, she's only got a week left. 

"Thank you." Henry smiles and Killian draws his eyes back to Henry. 

Leo waddles over to Emma and reaches his arms up at her. She scoops him up and stands with him on her hip. 

"You hungry kid?" She asks him and Leo nods. "Wanna help me make breakfast?" 

Leo pats her shoulder and agrees. "And Hook?" 

"You want Killian to help?" 

"Leo I don't-" Killian attempts, scratching the back of his neck, his face contorted in what looks like a grimace. 

"C'mon." She interrupts with the beginnings of a smile and he follows her into the kitchen without another word.

Leo wiggles down from her arms and runs to open the fridge as Emma turns to face Killian. 

"You worried me, pirate." She says, with a breath. 

A pained look crosses her face and she'd normally have masked that but he's standing a meter away and she always had trouble hiding herself from him. 

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you." He murmurs, all honest, regretful eyes. 

She nods and subconsciously steps forwards, backing him against the wall. He takes a breath and slowly, slowly, reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingers there, gentle on the side of her face. His eyes are searching hers the whole time, checking this was ok, touch so light it's almost not there, uncertainty running through his veins. She leans into his touch and she can't remember if she meant to do that or not. 

"Never again." He whispers, noticing the worry in the tightness of her muscles, the spark of fear in her eyes. 

She completely relaxes at that, and tries to rid his uncertainty by pressing herself against him, head on his chest. He breathes deeply and pulls his arms around her, squeezing tight.

It's Leo that breaks the embrace, dropping an egg on the floor that splatters on his tiny feet. Emma pulls out of Killian's arms, and he pretends that he doesn't feel empty without her there. She moves to clean up Leo and the floor, taking the box of eggs and placing them safely out of reach. 

"Pancakes then little prince?" She asks as she lifts him onto the counter to wipe the yolk from his toes. 

He giggles as she tickles his feet and she smiles so fondly at him that it's heartbreaking. 

"Pancakes." He nods and she ruffles his mess of hair before placing him back on the ground. 

It's strange to see her so motherly around him but it's like instinct, she reacts to him as if she's done it before.   
Then Killian thinks back to the curse where she was given fake memories of bringing up Henry and he doesn't know whether it's that or if the maternal instinct had just been there inside her all along. He thinks of her face when the potion kicked in and the realisation that crossed her eyes as the life she'd created with Henry wasn't real. He saw her pain and her regret and he aches because she never gets to do that again. 

She could have had another turn to bring up a baby, herself this time, but maybe he screwed that up for her too. He can't put the blame of that on the sun, could he?   
3 years had passed and if they'd had a child it'd still be a baby. Leo turns in a circle, dancing on little legs, oblivious to everything that was going to hurt and then maybe Killian's glad that they didn't, he couldn't lose anybody else, especially if it was part himself and part her.

Emma glances at him then as she pulls the ingredients out of various cupboards and he tries to take his eyes off of her every movement, bringing himself out of his musings.

"Okay Killian?" She gently breaks him from his trance and he nods with a half smile, and a burning in his chest, before helping her mix everything together. 

Emma, it turns out, has become an excellent pancake maker since all the running about defeating villains and monsters stopped. She gets mixture on her cheek and when he reaches to wipe it off she hesitates and that's enough to make him drop his hand. 

"It's on your face, love." And pulling a cloth from a drawer she hands it to him, leaning in his direction. It's an apology for dodging him a moment ago, and checking her eyes for signs of any apprehension, he gently wipes her face clean. 

Henry isn't Henry, and Killian doesn't know if he's the only one that notices. 

It's nothing dire like the time that he generally wasn't Henry, when Peter Pan was posing as him. He remembers Emma's silent hurting that night when she thought Henry had chosen Regina over herself. It was the first time she was reminded that she hadn't brought him up, that those fake memories were just that, fake. 

It's not like that, he's quiet and he doesn't eat his pancakes or drink his cocoa and something has to be wrong right? He looks up from the table then, feeling Killian's eyes on him and Killian raises an eyebrow. The lad doesn't react, simply drops his eyes back down and returns to pushing his pancake around the plate. 

Everyone's usual morning routine takes place, one after the other in the bathroom and Killian feels rude for not offering them to use the ensuit in the room he was staying in. He mentions this to Robin who'd been waiting for Regina to finish for a good 40 minutes. He gratefully claps Killian on the shoulder and hurries off to use the free shower.

He tries to keep out of the way like he had the last few days but when he's in the kitchen and he spots Henry out the window he just can't help himself. 

He watches the lad for a while, he was sitting on the edge of the back porch, back against the house, knees up Killian's hat in his hands. He had wires traveling from his ears to his phone and his thin shirt was blowing in the breeze. Glancing at the grey hazy sky, Killian picks up the hoodie from the back of one of the chair's and heads out the door. 

Henry turns his head to the side but thats the only indication that he notices Killian's presence. He deserves the cold shoulder from Henry but this just isn't him. 

Killian sits down beside him, leaving a gap big enough to not make him uncomfortable and Henry doesn't take his eyes off the sky in front of him, looking but unseeing. His eyebrows are furrowed as he's clearly lost in thought and a particularly strong gust of wind causes him to shiver, bumps rising on the skin of his bare arms. 

Killian reaches across and pushes the grey material onto Henry's lap. His eyes refocus and glance down and the side of his mouth comes up in a small smile that's for Killian's benefit not his own. It doesn't reach his eyes and it wouldn't hurt so much if he didn't look so much like his mother. Killian glances at the hat and wonders if his pain was his doing. 

Henry sighs softly and tugs the buds out of his ears before pushing his arms through the sleeves and pulling the hoodie over his head. It messes up his hair and the sleeves come way past his hands, it obviously not being his own. He pushes it up his elbows before running a hand through his hair to keep it back from his head in an action that looks all frustration. 

"Henry." Killian murmurs softly, steam filling the air between them as he breathes. 

Henry looks up, eyes lost and just sad. He looks so young and confused and his face scrunches up as Killian shuffles closer to his side until their shoulders touch.

"I haven't even got a name." He mumbles quietly and Killian's chest catches at the sound of his small voice. 

Killian doesn't know how to answer that, unsure of Henry's line of thought but the world was going to end in 6 days and maybe it's something to do with that. 

"My dad is dead." Henry says slightly louder into the cool air. "And even if he wasn't, his name was fake." 

His finger traces over the faintly written "Jones" on the inside rim of the captain's hat and it makes sense now. 

"Lad," Killian starts as a poor attempt at comfort but Henry shakes his head. 

"Mills isn't my family name, it's not real, it's just the name that signed my adoption papers." He looks resentful but the shy dart of his eyes shows Killian that he didn't mean it as a dig towards Regina or Emma but as more of a hard truth. 

Killian's open mouth still can't connect with his brain because what does he say to that? 

"I don't even count as a Charming, my Mom doesn't use their name. She got given her own names of that leaves me with nothing." He looks right at Killian then and Killian's not sure what he's looking for in him. He clears his throat. 

"I think you can have any name you want Lad." And it's so gentle, careful, as to not draw a severe response. 

Henry shrugs, biting at his lip.   
"I mean, what does it even matter. We'll all be gone soon." 

And that renders Killian silent because that's the underlying problem in everything isn't it? They had 6 days left. Henry was going to die and he didn't even know who he was. 

"I don't think it matters which name you choose, it won't change who you are." Killian speaks clearly with sincerity, and Henry looks at him with tears in his eyes. 

"You're strong and you fight for everyone you care about. You have this huge heart, full hope and belief and there's so much of your mother in you that you are selfless to the highest degree. I don't know what you call all of that," he says, hand waving in the air whilst he holds Henry's eyes with what he hopes is honest admiration.   
Henry looks back with a softer face as Killian pauses. "but to me you're a Swan." 

Henry's wet eyes blink a few times as he takes in the words and seeming choked he just nods. A real smile fills out his face a moment later, eyes shining softly, crinkling at the edges. 

With cold soaked limbs, Killian pushes himself up from the floor and holds a hand out to Henry. He looks at Killian before taking his hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet. He sucks in a breath before he throws himself at Killian's chest. Killian stumbles before catching himself, taken aback, but then his arms come round Henry as the younger lad whispers his thanks into the material of his shirt. 

"You know, I really am sorry right?" Killian says gently and Henry nods against him. 

"I know." He mumbles pulling back and Killian ruffles his hair before following him inside. 

When the pair are warmed up by the fire that seemed always lit, they were joined by the rest of the family where they all sit for the rest of the day. 

Killian learns what Netflix is and if he catches Emma's eye when it gets suggested by David, no one else notices. They watch an awful film about a dog called Marley and afterwards, Henry, in much better spirits, sniggers when he thinks he catches Killian crying. 

"Crying pirate?" He asks, eyebrow raised, smirk on his lips and since when did Henry grow cheek. 

"I don't know what you're talking about lad." He tries to pull off with a fake smile. 

"No no, I definitely saw a tear." Mary Margaret adds and then Regina is agreeing and they're laughing and he can't help but blush and laugh too as they ridicule him.

Out the corner of his eye he notices Emma looking at him with a soft smile on her face that he pretends it isn't one of fondness. 

"I don't like Netflix." He grumbles under his breath. 

It gets late but no one seems to notice. Robin rejoins the party, returning from his exploring David's wine cellar. He has many bottles of wine in his arms and, raising an eyebrow at the prince, he asks permission. 

"Go ahead, there's no point in saving it now." Charming smiles, and Killian never thought of him as the type to collect wine. 

Emma hands him a glass and it's a deep red colour compared to her own white. He wasn't much of a wine drinker but it seemed that the Charming's were and he was warming to it the way he always did to things they brought into his life. 

It warms his chest and lightens his heart. His eyes, instead of growing heavy as before, give his vision soft sort of edges. A heavy wind picks up outside but inside is warm without being hot. A small fire crackles and they're gathered around it, some on the sofa's, some on the floor. 

As the bottles grow empty the group grows louder, laughs more frequent, affectionate smiles thrown left, right and centre. Music starts up from somewhere and he's not sure who started it but it's calm, the beat carrying through a rhythm that has Regina and Mary Margaret up and swaying. 

The next thing Killian knows, he's on his feet too, twirling Regina around delicately. It takes him back to King Midas's castle and the ball where he had the pleasure of leading Emma in her first ever dance. She looked like a princess and he wishes he told her that then in a more sincere way. 

Leo falls asleep on a cushion in the corner of the room, seeming unable to hear the rowdy bunch or the music. Charming takes him up to bed, stumbling slightly on his feet but clearly more sober than the little lad's mother. 

Emma gets up then and takes David's place of dancing with her mother. It's different to the usual waltz they seemed to stick to in the Enchanted forest but Killian had spent enough time here to pick up the wild way people in this land danced. 

Killian sits to catch his breath, rosy glow on his cheeks. He watches as the fire creates an ethereal glow across everyone's skin, dancing shadows flickering over the walls and the endearing sight of Henry laughing as he sings and dances to the song with Regina.

One by one the couples break off, stumbling on drunken legs up the stairs and to bed. Emma and Henry dance the longest, leaving them the only three still up but when Henry yawns, Emma over affectionately in her drunken state, wishes him goodnight and pushes him upstairs. She takes her time stopping the music which had been playing from her phone, he now realises, plugged into some speakers. He swallows the last of his glass, following Emma to the kitchen to place it there before telling her goodnight. She stops him as he goes to place it in the dishwasher and she lifts a mostly full bottle of the same red as he had been drinking all night. Is that a question?

He raises an eyebrow as she holds her own glass in between the fingers of the hand holding the neck of the bottle and reaches for his arm with her free one. A content smile covers her face and he allows her to lead him up to his room. She pulls him inside where it's actually warm since she fixed it the night before. She pours them both a full glass and its unusually silent for the pair of them but Killian can't think of a single thing to say. Handing him her glass, she spins on her toes, body moving to some inaudible song. His eyes follow her as she twirls across the room, hips moving delicately as she holds her hand out for him to take. 

Placing down the wine, he joins her, unsure if this is the alcohol in her system or her just genuinely enjoying herself. He moves his body the same way she is, wiggling hips and bouncing on his feet, he even twirls her round a few times. The smile on her face reminds him of a time when oblivion wasn't hanging overhead, her cheeks are glowing a slight pink and green eyes sparkling whilst her hair messily falls down her shoulders in wild waves and this is when he thinks she's at her most beautiful. She's happy, carefree and absolutely gorgeous and this how he wants to remember her forever. 

Emma shakes her head at him, noticing he was being pulled into his thoughts and she draws him closer then, arms round his neck. His hand moves to her small waist, holding on and gently pressing his hook against the other side. She continues moving her body wildly but this time he can feel her every movement and he swallows hard before he lets his hips move again. They dance to the imaginary music, him following her rhythm and it's almost sinful, the way her body presses against his, but he lets himself have it, let's himself feel and laugh and dance with the woman he loves. 

He's in some sort of haze but it's safe and it's warm and for the first time in such a long time he's genuinely happy. He grows hot after long, his shirt beginning to stick to his back and his hair to his forehead and when she pulls away to spin again he tugs the shirt up and over his head with his right hand, careful not to tear the material with his left. 

She watches as his arms lift and the smooth planes on his stomach are revealed, his abs flex with the movement and a blush meets his cheeks. He hadn't thought of the action until after he'd done it and maybe he shouldn't have. 

Emma's arms are instantly back round his neck the moment the shirt is on the floor, throwing his uncertainty out the window, and their bodies are slower now, the bareness of his chest creating an intimacy that he's worried she'll be afraid of. She surprises him when she bites her lip, her hands moving to his shoulders and then her fingers gently trailing down the hot softness of his tanned skin. He realises that they've stopped dancing then but he can't concentrate on anything but her eyes as she surveys his torso. 

He watches her hands as her fingers trail to places where his skin turns rougher in light coloured scars and her eyes soften, the sparkle still there but the mischief gone, replaced by something he doesn't want to name in case it's not real, in case he's completely wrong.   
He shivers under her hands and it has nothing to do with the temperature. Her pupil widens, swallowing up the green and he breaths harder, deeper against her hands, she gently rubs each mark on his chest from where he'd ever been hurt. Somehow they'd pressed even closer together, so that when she looks up into his eyes, there's inches between them. Her eyes flicker over his chest once more as her right palm moves to cover where his heart is hammering beneath the skin and he swallows again, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. 

"Emma love....." He murmurs, voice thick and low and it's not so much of a warning but of a confession. 

Her eyes flicker up to his at that and he wonders if she knows, if she realises the effect she has on him. She blinks a few times bringing herself out of the apparent trance. She nods in understanding, her head giving the slightest of movements and then her arms are back round his neck, her head resting against his shoulder and he takes deep breaths to control his lungs and heart. They sway steadily, completely different to the way they were dancing before and he can feel her heart against his chest beating at a similarly rapid pace to his. 

"Did they hurt?" She asks quietly and he feels her lips move against his skin. 

"Hmm?" He questions, a deep mumble, wrapped up in the feel of her hair against his chest and her cheek against his shoulder. 

"Your scars." She clears up. 

"Not anymore." 

"Which one was the worst?" And he glances down at his battle marked body and thinks back to sword fights and duels and battles with ogres or rough storms where he'd been thrown about his ship.

"The worst?" He thinks for a moment and contemplates the words he wants to say next. "The worst didn't leave a scar, well not on the outside anyway." He murmurs roughly and she lifts her head at that. 

"What happened?" She asks in genuine curiosity and he looks down embarrassed for a moment. 

"I once had the job of protecting the rarest heart I'd ever seen. It'd been damaged before, bruised, so it was surrounded by this wall to keep it from ever being hurt again. I got through the wall and was trusted with the heart. It didn't need a protector but I was let in anyway. It was practically golden with the light it possessed, it was selfless and kind and the best, just the best heart. I didn't deserve it, I'm a villain at heart and I did something worse than crushing it. I gave it my love and then I dropped it and walked away to save its beauty from the darkness, not realising that by dropping it I'd shattered it to pieces and by walking away I betrayed every ounce of trust given to me." He breaks off taking a staggered breath as her eyes hold his with deep intensity.   
"I broke the heart that I loved the most in the world and knowing that is the deepest wound I've ever received." And his voice is soft but so sincere, so meaningful that she takes a long moment to process everything. 

After a while she speaks quietly,  
"You had the heart's best interests in mind the whole time?" 

"Always." He states, face a picture of regret and honesty and so much sadness. She nods, blinking a few times before she leans back against him, continuing their silent dance.

The silence isn't uncomfortable, her thoughts going a mile a minute and he needed to give her those words. He needed to show her, to let her understand why he hurt her for all of three years.

"It'll forever be yours, Killian." She whispers and it sounds like yet another part of a forgiveness that he doesn't deserve. 

He can't reply, throat constricted and eyes wet.   
It's when both glasses are empty and his head is bowed down and his skin burns where it presses against hers, that he finally speaks.

"Im falling around you." He mumbles into her skin and they both know it doesn't make much sense but he's slightly intoxicated on more than just the alcohol. 

It shouldn't make sense but it does. If the sun was going to grow the size of the sky, if it was going to burn brighter and hotter than it ever had before, if it was going to reduce everything and anything to dust and ash, they will all fall. And as the image of falling dust through nothingness fills her mind, she guesses he's right, he's falling around her. 

"Killian." She murmurs back, voice choked and thick, eyes shutting as she runs her fingers delicately through his hair. Maybe she was the sun, she certainly was to him. Or maybe it was the other way around, maybe she was falling around him. 

Her lips press against the side of his face, just over the scar on his left cheek. He shuts his eyes and presses her closer. Her lips then move down his jaw, trailing kisses down to the side of his mouth. He opens his eyes when she's close and that dark green is holding him so intensely he feels like maybe he was burning hotter than the sun. Maybe all it takes for the earth to burn is for her to look at him. 

He leans forward and connects their lips, losing himself in her again and again and he goes further then he meant to, tugging her closer in every way possible and only being content when she is. He's so caught up in her that he doesn't realise he's backed into the bed until he falls, back landing on the softness, Emma on top of him. 

He breaks the kiss then, untangling his hand from her hair and letting it drop onto the bed. 

"Stop it." She mumbles, drawing back to look at his face. Her hair falls in front of her eyes again and he subconsciously reaches out and tenderly tucks it behind her ear much like he had this morning. 

"Stop what?" He asks, a little breathless, cheeks flushed and she really needs to stop looking at his lips like that. 

"Being so cautious." And he raises an eyebrow at that, opening his mouth to protest but she gets there before him.

"I want this Killian, I want you." She sounds so sure, certain and it's not like her. She's never this certain when it comes to things with him. 

"I just don't want you to do something you'll regret." He murmurs, pupil shrinking again as the blue takes over. He knows that she assumes he means because of the alcohol but mostly he means because it's him. 

"I never regret a thing with you." She says seriously, taking his breath away with a sentence. 

"I do." He answers, equal seriousness mixed with regret. 

"I know." And maybe that makes it a little easier to breathe. 

Her eyes study him for a long moment, searching his face for something. She lets out a breath, putting a hand on his chest and pushing herself up. Rejection flashes across her face, it's quick but he catches it.

"Do you not-" 

"Swan, no. That's not it, I have never wanted anything the way I want you. I'm just making sure you're ok. I don't want to rush you." 

He hears her sigh of relief and pulls her back down to him. He kisses the top of her head and feels her smile against his skin. 

"We've waited all of three years. No more time wasting." She whispers. He makes a noise of agreement, not trusting his voice due to the choking emotion and she tilts her head and begins to lightly kiss along his collar bone. 

A whimper is brought from his throat and he tries to swallow it but she hears and comes up to look at him. Her eyes all adoration and a little sympathy. His cheeks redden and she smirks before placing her lips on the corner of his mouth. 

"It's alright Sailor, we've got all night." She murmurs lowly and he leans forward to catch her lips at that. 

"Wait, love." And his voice strained as reason comes through the cloud of his thoughts. 

"Stop asking my permission, I'm yours." Emma presses against the skin of his neck and he gasps but shakes his head, not what he was getting at. 

He sucks in a breath as her hips move, hand reaching for her waist to still her. Eyes flashing in realisation and she kisses just below his jaw, adoration at him trying to do the right thing. 

She shakes her head, smiling sadly.   
"6 days Killian." She says softly in a painful reminder and his answering frown is wiped off instantly by the movement of her hips. 

She leans over him and this time his lips find the soft skin of her neck and she moans his name as her eyes show him everything. 

"Emma I love you." He moans when he pulls away to breathe, foreheads leaning against each other's. She stills, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I love you." He pants, entirely breathless, voice as he's never heard it before. He feels her heart quicken beneath his palm and her eyes fill with something like grief and a lot like love. 

"I know." She says thickly, fingers pushing back his hair, searing her fingerprints into his skin. 

"So so much, always. I love you ." He chokes and it's too much, too intense. 

"Shhh, I know," she soothes, eyes sparkling, mind reeling because he's not expecting anything back but she feels the same, he knows she does. He shuts his eyes as she kisses his head tenderly. "I know." She says instead.


	9. 5 days

The sunlight through the crack in the curtains stings closed eyelids and he groggily moves in closer to the warmth wrapped around his body, hiding his head. He's already close enough to one sun, he doesn't need another. 

There's a sigh against him and it pulls his mind to consciousness, causes a smile on his face. He cracks open an eye and first thing he sees is golden blonde, bright, blindingly bright, until his eyes adjust. She stirs, arms tightening around him as all he can do is gaze in wonder at the sight before him. He doesn't like implications but he doesn't have to think of that right now because she's here and it's soft and it's warm and it's all he ever wants. Her eyes are still closed but like him, she seeks for the darkness and he chuckles softly as she ducks her head against his chest under the covers.

"Head." She groans, hand coming up to grip at her wild hair. His smile widens, before he frowns.

"Aye, mine too." He agree's, noticing the familiar pounding ache in his head. 

She stretches, then creeps her head out again, eyes big and surveying. He sees a sleepy smile start to creep in and it's aimed entirely at him. Her hair is artfully messy and he was wrong last night. This morning, bathed in early rays, she's more beautiful than he's ever seen her before. 

She slowly sits, hand grazing across his body as she withdraws from him. He regards her with careful but light eyes, weight lifted, if only for a short time. 

"I..." She starts and her voice is quite, matching the soft tone of the room. Her eyes flit from his eyes to her hands and then back again before she finds the courage. 

"I missed you." She hands it on a plate, giving another piece of herself to him, faint blush on her cheeks. 

His answering smile is small, checked and reserved, but there nevertheless. Soft blue eyes blink slowly, matching the smile by crinkling at the edges. 

"And I you." He murmurs, voice thick, hand reaching the side of her face, tenderly stroking a thumb across her cheek. 

Her hand covers his, pulls it down and entwines their fingers, squeezing soft before she lets go and disappears into the bathroom. 

The next moment he hears the sound of the shower and he waits, arms on the pillow behind his head, tingles of something he hasn't felt in such a long time underneath his skin.   
When he gets in the shower after her, his towel is already wet and he doesn't mind one bit. In the mirror he looks different, the appearance of man who'd won the world, deep lost eyes returned to the light. He dresses, catching sight of a slight bruise just above his collarbone in the shape of her lips and he hopes its still there in 5 days, he wouldn't mind dying with her lips on his skin.

Mary Margaret makes a crude remark within minutes of him entering the kitchen. She observes him with wide knowing eyes and a smirk, turning to look at her daughter who groans, blush on her cheeks whilst Killian attempts to hide a smile. 

He scratches the back of his neck a little nervously but knows she means nothing by it but to laugh and he takes a seat at the table next to Emma. She pushes a mug towards him with a smile that's an apology. 

They can't take their hands or eyes off each other and it's ridiculously obvious. His hand keeps finding her waist, taking her hand. She idly runs her fingers over the softer skin of the inside of his wrist, traces the very veins that he swears she runs through. She also keeps throwing him that smile that feels something like melted sunshine. 

She reaches for him, that's the biggest giveaway. Whilst they bustle round the kitchen, two Charming's, one Swan and a Jones, trying to make some sort of breakfast, she can't help touching him. Holds out a hand as he brushes past, grips his hip from behind to steady herself whilst she reaches something, hand on his chest when she looks up at him with something more than forgiveness in her eyes. It's so much like how she used to look at him at that he has to breathe around the lump in his throat.   
Others soon catch on and more jokes are thrown to Emma's embarrassment and his amusement and maybe it's him that gives it away with his lovesick eyes. 

They all go for a walk, coats protecting them from the chill, the orange leaves of the trees are lit by the Sun so the ground and the sky look like fire. Henry carries Leo on his shoulders and in that split second that Killian glances at them they look more like brothers than Uncle and Nephew. The river isn't far from the house and they head there with picnic baskets and blankets, walking in a group, a team making their last mark on this god forsaken world. 

The wind is cool but the sun is warm making the grass dry enough to sit on with a blanket. And that is how the day is spent, a football kicked around by the water, laying on the river bank, wind in their hair. He's seated beside Charming who, like himself, has his eyes entirely set on the woman that owns his heart. They're a little way off from them, sitting with their feet in the cold water, smiling at something unknown. The Prince then turns to the Pirate and they exchange a look that only a man who's regarding something of utmost importance can give. It's something like "I'm the luckiest man alive" and something like "I know." 

"She's always loved you," Charming says, indicating to his daughter with gentle eyes before he meets Killian's, "and she always will." 

Killian swallows, takes a moment to reply, hoping charming understands just how much he loves her back. He hopes the prince understands how unworthy he views himself next to her. He hopes he knows that he sees her as nothing but the Sun. 

"Aye, and I don't deserve a second of it." Killian answers slowly, in truth, tugging at the strands of soft grass beneath his fingers as he breaks eye contact.

"You deserve as much as a man willing to fight for what he wants." And Killian's eyes meet David's almost instantly, hair blowing in the wind as a mutual understanding crosses them both. 

It's only words but it's a forgiveness, it's only words but it's more than that, more than Killian's mistakes, more than kindness. He understands, it's his blessing and Killian full well knows it. 

"Thank you, mate." Killian strains around the tight emotion in his chest, eyes wet and David nods, understanding that it's a gratitude for always not just today.

"We come here every fall. When the sun sets it hits the water and turns it bright orange to match the leaves." He looks up to find Mary Margaret. 

She sits the other side of David, leaning into his side as his arm comes around her. She passes Killian a phone and he takes it with an arched brow, peering at it to find a photo of the two of them with a smaller version of Leo, all glowing in orange hues. 

"It's sort of a tradition, a quite place that reminds us of the forest." She continues whilst he scrolls to the next picture.   
This one is obviously caught unaware, a tiny Leo has his nose scrunched and ice cream all over his face and David is smiling at him like he's the most precious thing in the universe. 

He doesn't hear what Snow is saying then as he scrolls again to find another, this time of her and Leo sticking their tongues out at the camera, another of Leo and Henry sitting in a pile of leaves so big that only their faces are visible. 

The next takes his breath away, Emma, with a deep red beanie contrasting against her hair, eyes staring ahead at the water, deep sunset lighting them golden. He pauses, thumb hovering above the screen and when he scrolls again she's looking right at the camera. 

Realising her picture had been caught, she wears a lopsided smile. He likes that one the most. He commits the photo to memory before he looks up and hands the phone back, making a quick comment on how it looked beautiful as his heart smoulders beneath his ribs. He doesn't fool Mary Margaret but she doesn't comment and he's thankful. 

It was a tradition, and this year would be their last, the last year of brown and red leaves, the last year of orange sunsets across the water, the last year of picnics and grass and smiles. It would be their last time as a family and it aches because they're going to lose it all far too soon.

Emma joins them soon after, dragging over a basket of food and sitting opposite Killian on the blanket. 

Under the tree it creates a kind of feeling that they're the only two that exist. He watches as she bites an orange, juice covering her lips and almost dripping down her chin. The colour of the juice on her lips reminds him of a sunset but he doesn't tell her so. She opens her eyes and it distracts him completely, the green turning the colour of the ocean in September.

She smiles then, tongue coming out to catch the orange juice and his eyes flicker from her mouth to her eyes.   
"Alright there pirate?" 

He nods and she catches the way his eyes are distant, caught on her lips, she leans in closer, hand grasping his, pulling him in. Her head gently rests against his and he loses his mind. It's one of those moments where there should be a string quartet behind them but there's nothing but the sound of wind in the leaves and the trickling of flowing water, distant conversations of those around them. He mouths her name, unable to keep so much of her inside him without it spilling out. 

"Sure?" She whispers, lips brushing his as she speaks. 

He swallows hard, nodding again. He holds still, afraid to move, to create any more intimacy than that of what exists at the moment. Afraid of what he can and can't show in front of the eyes around them. 

Then she tilts her head, pressing her lips softly against his. She tastes sweet like the orange and a little like sunshine and he thinks that if this is the last bit of sunlight he gets, he really wouldn't mind. 

It's short and when she pulls back she draws her lip between her teeth. He breathes deeply, running his tongue over his lips where hers had been moments ago and not being surprised to taste the fruit that he hadn't even taken a bite of. 

When he turns back to his own food he catches Henry's eye who had been regarding them from a distance, nothing but curiosity across his face. 

Killian gives him a small smile and Henry averts his gaze then, looking down with the beginnings a smile playing at his own lips. Satisfied that Henry didn't see him as a threat, he turns back to Emma, his breath catching as the image on the phone is recreated. Her eyes are ahead, steadily focused on the water, wind blowing her hair gently. Letting go of the breath he was holding he let's his eyes linger on her, his heart pounding. He looks away before she feels his eyes on her, pushing himself up from his place on the floor. 

He slowly walks towards the waters edge shaking off his cold numbed limbs. He catches his reflection again when he's close enough and he looks like the man he did years ago, the one who's morals changed so thoroughly that he was almost a redeemed man. Almost. 

His feet take him along the bank, across a trail through the grass, between a gap in the bushes, under the low branches of trees. He pushes through the space, leaves falling around him as he brushes his arms against the overgrown plants. Eyes never leaving the path by his feet, he eventually breaks out of the wooden mass, stumbling into a clearing of longer grass. 

Wild flowers grow across the space, the sun just above the horizon, rays reflecting across the water. 

He stills, a foot from falling in, breeze stroking his hair, sun warming his skin. It's almost a heaven, almost as calming as the port of Storybrooke at sunrise. Almost. 

There's a gentle calling of his name and he breaks out of his trance, turning as Emma artfully lifts a branch and ducks under it, appearing in the clearing before him. She takes a moment, as he had done, to take in the surroundings and then her eyes are on his face. She walks slowly, languidly, quiet and they've never needed words have they. 

Once next to him, her shoulder brushes his and his next move is instinct, fingers opening, hand outstretched, eyes asking permission to hold hers. She looks down, fingers sliding through his, leaning in, her head on his shoulder as they watch the sun lower in the sky. 

"It's beautiful Swan." He murmurs and she nods. 

"Wait another half an hour." She tells him, lifting her head to glance up at him. 

He looks down and there's a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. She indicates to the water with a tilt of her head. 

"Fancy a swim?" And he raises an eyebrow at that, amused smile lighting up his face. 

"No, thank you." He says regarding the water, guessing at its cold temperature. 

His voice holds a tint of amusement and she squeezes his fingers. 

"I dare you." And her eyes surge at the challenge. He shakes his head, face almost splitting with the strength of his smile. 

"Go on! It's only water!" 

"Swan!"

"Jones." She counters and it's weird, falls out of her mouth funny, she's never called him that before. Her eyebrow arches at herself and he sees the way that she decides not to use that again. He sighs. 

"I'll have you know that I never back away from a challenge." He mumbles as first he shakes his coat off, then his shoes and then his shirt. 

She watches, lip held between her teeth to stop from laughing. He shivers as the wind blows against him and before she even blinks he's jumped. He goes right under the water, it being deeper than he'd realised and when he comes out he gasps. His eyes are wide and limbs numb with the freezing temperature. Once he's got over the shock he faces her, water dripping from his hair and he full out grins. She lets her laughter fall out then, a short melodic sound that touches his heart. 

"Cold?" She asks, smirk on her lips. 

"Oh you know, just a little." He plays down sarcastically, she catches the way his body shakes and teeth clatter together and it must be freezing. 

He swims closer to the edge until he can stand on the bottom with the water up to his neck and he pushes his hair back. 

"Coming for a swim, Swan?" He asks, lips a little blue and she shakes her head no.

"I may be a gentleman but I will pull you in if you don't join me." He threatens lightly, eyes shining. And he looks so ridiculous, shivering with his hair flat on his head, that it holds no weight. 

She doesn't reply to that, just raises an eyebrow and shrugs her red leather off. He watches her strip layer after layer off and he shakes his head, holding back the chuckle in his throat. 

"Too many clothes." He mutters as her shoes come off and she steps towards the edge, standing on the bank above him in nothing but a tank top and her underwear. 

She leans forward, stretching a leg out and dipping her toes in. He seizes the opportunity and grabs ahold of her ankle, giving it a tug until her balance fails her and she falls with a splash into the water beside him. 

She comes back up quickly, sharp intake of breath as the iciness of the water spreads through her. She turns to him, annoyance in her eyes but he's trying so hard not to laugh that the moment she looks at him she smiles despite herself. Her palm pushes the water up so it splashes in his face and he laughs deeply, chuckling as he runs his hand over his eyes. 

"It's freezing." She breathes, teeth chattering. Her legs move rapidly under the water and she swims closer to him, placing both hands on his shoulders and clinging to his chest. 

He frowns and then realises that she can't reach the floor, his arm comes around her waist, holding her to him, holding her up. She feels warm compared to the chilled river and he leans his forehead down, pulling her tighter against him. She relaxes as a warmth is created between them, her head rests against his, staring at his eyes like they held the entire universe. 

Her legs come around his hips, lessening the space between them and as he tilts his head, searching for her lips, the sun suddenly hits the horizon. 

He turns and the sky is pinks and oranges, the water a deep red colour. It reflects onto their skin, almost setting them alight. All darkness is lost, set aside to make room for so much light. And then her lips find his, her hands in his hair and it doesn't matter that their lips are blue or that they were shaking to no end. There was everything that meant something to him. There was Emma, clothed by the sun, water around them and a love so deep even death wouldn't be able to destroy it.  
He swears by it, looking into her orange tinged eyes, the sun burning around them, he'll still love her when he's nothing but dust.

Henry bursts through the bushes then and Emma pulls away, head resting on Killian's shoulder, face against his neck to hide her smile. Killian takes a moment to compose himself, deep breaths to refill his lungs. 

"Lad." He smiles warmly.

"The others are looking for you." Henry mumbles, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

"Just coming kid." Emma supplies and Henry disappears as quickly as he arrived. 

Killian laughs quietly, nosing her hair as they stay pressed together in the water. The colours eventually fade, shade falling upon them and after a bigger gust of wind and a particularly violent shudder from Emma, they get out. 

He feels bad when she has her cold dampened clothes on over her wet ones and is still shaking a little so that she can't quite stand still. He holds his own shakes in, wrapping his jacket around her and holding her against his side as they make their way back to the group. 

Mary Margaret is a little miffed that they missed it but after seeing the smile on the pairs faces she lets it go. She scolds them for their wet hair before she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of them, shivering but laughing into each other. 

The walk back is cold and David pulls Emma into his side, holding both her hands and breathing warm air into them. Henry falls into step with Killian and arches an eyebrow but doesn't speak. Killian ruffles his hair and the water from his sleeve drips on the younger lad. Henry ducks away from him, pretend scowl on his face as he smooths his hair. Killian just smirks and Henry leans closer giving the pirate a small shove and rolling his eyes, grin on his face. 

It's only later when the cold's disappeared, when he's scrubbing at his hair in the shower attempting to rid himself of the dank smell of river water and she slips in the shower behind him, wrapping arms around his back and leaning soft skin against his, that he really feels it. 

"Swan." He murmurs twisting and holding her against his chest, pulling her under the stream of hot water with him. 

She smiles up at him, steam filling the air around them, water drops dripping from her eyelashes.   
It's home, he's home. And he never finishes what he's about to say because she knows, he knows she knows.   
You never realise that your home until you just miss it. He's missed this with his entire soul. 

He watches as her hair turns from that white blonde to a darker caramel colour in the water and she reaches up on her tiptoes to help rub the bubbles out of his hair. 

"Your hair's got long." She mumbles, running her fingers through and holding up the dark strands so it stands on end. 

He nods, closing his eyes at the feel of her fingers against his scalp. 

"No point in getting it cut." He murmurs, completely blissed out. 

Her movements stop for  
a moment before she continues and then she pushes it all back from his face and moves her hands to his cheeks. 

He opens his eyes and she pulls his face down and kisses him softly. 

"My turn." She smiles, reaching for the shampoo bottle and holding it upside down, indicating to his hand.

He looks down at it and then back at her face, she raises an eyebrow and he smiles uneasily before holding out a hand, watching her squeeze the liquid out and then motioning for her to turn around. She turns, hair ticking his chest and backs right up against him. His chest constricts in the already tight space but he gently starts to rub it into her hair. 

The strands turns slightly curly in the hot water and he twists one around his finger, smiling softly and scrunching the whole length in his hand. When it's all bubbly he softly runs his fingers through until it lays in smooth waves down her back and when she turns back to him it takes a few seconds before his eyes refocus on her face.   
She pulls him close, resting her head where his heart is and he breathes slowly.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks softly. 

"How I don't want to lose you." He replies an instant later, wet eyes. And she has nothing to say to that, only the comfort of matching pain across her face and the feel of her body against his. 

"Stay with me tonight?" He asks, ducking his head down to rest it on her shoulder. 

"Of course." She mumbles, tired but content. 

He waits for her on the sofa whilst she makes her way around the house, wishing everyone goodnight. She comes back with Henry, tugging him in by his hand and pushing him onto Killian. He laughs quietly as he falls face down on Killian's stomach and Emma smiles at the sight of her favourite two boys before her. 

"Wanna watch a movie?" She asks and Henry agree's, pushing himself up and sitting next to Killian.

Emma turns the tv on, pushes in a dvd and settles down on the sofa on the other side of Henry. 

The screen lights up and Killian raises an eyebrow as a blonde with incredibly long hair starts singing. 

"We got everyone into Disney." Henry whispers and Killian nods like he knows what that means and Emma tries to hide a smile at his dumbstruck look. 

He squints closer at the screen something familiar lingering in the back of his mind. Then it clicks and he sits up, startling Henry who'd been leaning slightly against his side. 

"Bloody hell I know that Lass!" He points at the screen and Henry bursts into sniggering laughs. Emma groans and he feels like he's missed something here. 

"No way do you know Rapunzel." She deadpans and Henry holds out a hand in a high five. Killian meets his hand, confusion over his face. 

"Told you she exists! You owe me!" He cheers and Emma groans again. 

"Love?" He asks and Emma points towards the shelf in the corner of the room. He can just about see a line of dvd's. 

"Disney makes movies about fairytales, we had a bet going on which ones we're myths and which were real. You've just lost me 10 bucks." She explains and Henry laughs again. 

Killian shrugs in apology and looks back to the screen again, eyebrow raised.

"C'mon, no one has hair that long." Emma says after a few minutes silence. 

"Let it go Mum, she's as real as Grandma." Henry smirks. 

"I stood on it once. She got a little bit angry." Killian mumbles and then huffs when the two laugh at that. 

"Well it was all," he indicates with his arms to the floor, searching for the words to explain it, "dragging around." He protests and then they're laughing harder, Henry leaning his head on Killian's shoulder as his body shakes. 

The film ends and Henry's drifting to sleep, his head on Emma's chest, hand gripping her shirt like a lifeline. Killian has to swallow when he catches the sight and when he meets Emma's eye she blinks quickly and bends her head down to hide her face in his hair. Gently kissing his head. 

"Love you, Mum." Henry whispers and Emma's hand falters in its stroking through his hair. 

"I love you too Kid." She murmurs lowly and Killian stands then, attempting to distract himself from the heartbreaking scene that shouldn't hurt as much as it does. 

"Bedtime." Emma tells him softly, patting his back and he nods, lifting himself up with tired and sad eyes. 

Once he's ready for bed Henry hugs Killian who murmurs a,  
"Night lad." and then moves to his mother who squeezes him almost too tightly. 

"Are you gonna be alright?" She asks, finger under his chin to meet his eyes with a careful but concerned expression. 

"I'll be fine Mum. Night." He smiles, walking to the room he was previously sharing with Emma and shutting the door. 

Emma sighs, shoulders drooping before she follows Killian to his room. He pulls her into him, kissing the top of her head, words trapped in his throat. She takes a deep breath to calm herself before she steps back. 

They don't need words, he knows what's hurting her, god it's destroying him too.

***

 

The waves pull him under and his feet are weighed down by his boots, his limbs immovable, bones dripping with exhaustion. His feeble fight is nothing compared to the thrashing water and he's under within seconds, thrown against rocks, falling deeper and deeper into the darkness. He kicks one last time before the pressure in his lungs explodes and he takes in a breath. It burns as the water rushes into his body, pulling him down into the darkness of the ocean, reflection of the sun through the surface becoming smaller. His body shakes as the loss of oxygen causes his organs to shut down one by one and his eyes fight to stay open as his heart beats one last time. 

He gasps awake and his eyes open, clear oxygen filling his lungs, and she's there, sitting atop his thighs, hands on his face. He breathes raggedly, heavily and he realises that she's been trying to wake him for quite some time. He sucks in the air, head pounding as he sits up and her arms come around his back, his face in her neck as he grounds himself, rids the image of water. 

"It's okay, it's okay. You're okay." She murmurs hand running softly through his hair in this tenderness reserved only for him.   
She waits until the sweat dries on his head and he regains his breath before she speaks again. 

"I couldn't wake you up. You were thrashing around. You scared me." She says softly, voice calming. 

"Drowning." He whimpers and god damn it. He can't keep needing her to fight away his dreams. Her arms tighten around him, squeezing before she pulls back and lifts his head with her fingers. 

"You can swim." She says gently and he can't help but snigger at that. Fear replaced with adoration. She smiles and that's all he needs. 

"Okay?" She mumbles as he lies back down and pulls her on top of him. 

"Mhmm." 

"Want me to light you a candle?" 

"No, it's ok," he's quiet for a beat, a weight held in the silence before he mumbles in a tiredly worn voice.

"I love you." It catches her unaware.

"I know." She mumbles. And he's almost asleep when she speaks again.

"Killian?" 

"Swan?" 

"Thank you." 

He makes a confused noise. 

"For bringing my happy ending back." And the quiet is thick, she can hear him swallow, she can feel his face contort. 

It's not what she wanted to say but it's almost the same thing. He's not her happy ending but she wouldn't have one without him, he was a major part of it. 

"I'm sorry I ruined it." He eventually says, voice all self loathing and apology. 

"Hey no don't..." She finds his face, pulling it down so she can rest their heads together in the dark "don't do that." 

He shakes his head.  
"And I'm sorry it has to end like this." He whimpers, and she almost doesn't catch it but she does and it hurts. 

"Me too."


	10. 4 days

Time has never been more precious. He only has one hand, that's 5 less fingers to hold onto the minutes and hours that he keeps losing. He can't hold on for much longer, not when they keep slipping through the gaps in between his fingers. 

"Killian." 

Through his sleepy gaze, blindly,  his one hand reaches for what he can hold and her fingers side between his own. There's the one thing that he can hold onto, at least for a little while. He shuts his eyes again then, stroking his thumb across the back of her palm.

"Wake up." Her voice murmurs, pulling him back to consciousness. 

He groans, shaking his head, hiding his face into the pillow. She takes her hand back and tugs the duvet off, leaving him stripped, leaving him empty. He turns his head at that feeling, needing to see her if he cannot touch her and she's looking at him with her lip between her teeth. 

She's impatient, already dressed with hair falling in damp strands past her shoulders. He groans again but it has no weight. She runs a hand up his arm nearest to her and when her warm fingers reach his shoulder she gently squeezes. Then she trails them back down, absentmindedly tracing the faint outline of his veins through his skin. 

She grips his fingers when she gets to them and tugs until he's heaved up. They're sitting opposite ways then, her facing the headboard, him the end of the bed but their eyes are always linked, always searching, always holding. She tugs his arm again, more gently until they're in a sort of half hug. He sleepily rests his head on her shoulder, smiles into her neck as her hands push through his messy hair. He could almost fall back to sleep like this. 

"Tired?" She questions and he nods, knowing his voice would be too gravely to pronounce any sound that she would understand. 

He feels her anxiety and the need to be with the rest of her family in the tense of her shoulders and he lifts himself up. 

"Give me ten minutes." He mumbles and she nods, getting up and throwing him a towel before heading downstairs. 

The lightness in his bones pushes away the heavy tiredness weighing him down. If he stands under the hot water, gathering his thoughts for such a long time that he begins to struggle to breathe through the steam, no one has to know. 

He ditches his hook today, instead using the prosthetic. Emma notices from across the room but doesn't say anything, instead throwing her father a shining eyed smile at the quip he'd just made. 

There seems to be some sort of game going around, never have I ever. Apparently it's supposed to be played with alcohol but his flask had long since run out and the rest seemed to be  using cocoa anyway. 

When Henry teases him, telling the group that "never had he ever lost his hand in a sword fight" with a smirk, he's not sure if he likes this game. 

He throws back a,  
"I have two hands thank you very much." Holding up both his hand and the wooden one but it's twisted slightly so it's almost on backwards and that sets Henry giggling and Robin clapping his shoulder with a "Bro" and a soft laugh.

The game has Mary Margaret covering Henry's ears when David comes up with a particularly crude one. Emma goes a little pink in the cheeks and they share a glance if only for a moment but there's a tiny smirk on her face and he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips as he stares down at the floor. 

It comes to an end naturally when it starts to darken outside and Killian doesn't understand how he keeps losing so much time, he's only just woken up, he's sure of it. 

He tries not to get tied up again in his head full of regret and he barely notices Emma gently saying his name. 

He looks up when he feels eyes on him. One earphone trails down her body, whilst the other plays music into her ear and he reaches for her hand as she walks past, some sort of instinct. When she looks down he hesitates, thinks that maybe he should pull it back but her fingers grab his then, taking hold and he guides her to his side on the sofa.

She sits close, shoulder to shoulder, hip bones touching. She pulls him out of the inside of his mind and all he wants is her closer, always closer, he can never quite get enough. He lifts his arm a little and she snuggles in instantly, throwing his caution to the wind, shoulder in the groove of his arm, face on his chest. He's so uncertain and she can feel it in the set of his shoulders and in the tight grip he has on her fingers. He doesn't know why it matters but he still doesn't know where he's allowed to go with her family present. He was mostly and always would be a gentleman. It's not that he's scared, it's just that its delicate. 

When he looks down she meets his eyes with that look that tells him that he doesn't have to ask and he pushes his tongue back down, swallowing the lump in his throat as he holds her tighter against his side, presses a gentle kiss against her head.

He idly picks up the small bud hanging between them and she follows his movements with curious eyes. He turns it over, feeling the way the beat makes it pulse slightly in his hand.

He lifts it gently, as to not pull the other one from her ear and holds it to his own. He presses it until it fits and then let's his hand drop to his knee. It's soft, whatever it is that she's playing, a gentle melody full of strings carried by a piano and a soothing voice that sings of chasing cars. He uses the arm around her back to press her closer to him then, eyes finding that watered down green and he sighs with the weight that's simultaneously too much and not enough at the same time. Maybe he would lie with her and just forget the world. 

***

She's too hot and she's not sure why seeing as it's almost icy out on the back porch. Killian keeps tells her that he's cold but it's always him that has the warm skin, not her. She makes her mother come out with her, the promise of a stary night enough to persuade her to keep Emma company until her blood fizzles down to a cooler temperature.

They idly talk but every conversation topic seems to be weighted now, the Sun's catching up to them. 

Mary Margaret asks how Henry's taking it all but her real concern is hiding in her eyes, it really says "How are you taking it?" And it's too much, it's too soon, it's choking her slowly to death. 

"I think he's doing as okay as the rest of us." Emma says but the panic in her eyes is saying, "oh god I'm gonna lose the family I've only just got to have." 

She changes the subject then, saving words that need to be spoken for another time because they have just under 4 days, she hopes that's enough time. 

They watch their family through the glass window, cold finally creeping through her burning veins. 

It happens within an instance and only a person who knows Emma as well as her mother does would catch it. 

It's the three boy's that are the focus, Robin, David and Killian. Of all things, they're arm wrestling, laughing in the process and David seems the best, stronger than both the pirate and the outlaw. 

Leo interrupts then, jumping in the middle of their circle on the floor with his little feet. He flops onto his fathers lap and David tickles him before he sits him in front of him. He holds the boys tiny fingers and pretends to wrestle him, letting him pin David's hand down on the carpet. He grins and Killian holds up his hand, asking for a high five. Leo turns, raises his hand, and as Killian goes to gently hit their hands together, Leo pulls his away and puts his thumb on his nose, wiggling his fingers and sticking his tongue out. 

Killian raises an eyebrow, hand missing and then his head tips back, teeth showing as laughter they can't hear falls from his mouth. The fire reflects on his skin, flickering shadows on him as his eyes crinkle and his hair falls across his forehead. 

Snow turns to Emma then, about to comment on something to do with second chances but she doesn't. Emma's eyes are solely focused on him, on the way he bends down and scoops Leo in his arms, cradling him as his body shakes with his laughter. Her wide eyes tear away from him then, heart burning in her chest, throat constricting, lip trembling, knees shaking. 

Mary Margaret sees it all and she has Emma in her arms before either of them can process it. She holds her there, keeping her still as silent emotion pours through her body. 

"Oh baby." Snow murmurs, eyes squeezing shut as she rests her chin atop Emma's head. Her face screws up in pain, attempting to keep her own feelings checked. 

It's only a few moments that they stay like that before she sees Killian approach through the window above Emma's head. He opens the patio door with happiness in his eyes, a smile on his lips, which turns to concern as he lifts his eyes to them. 

Mary Margaret doesn't speak, just hands her daughter to what she hopes is his capable chest and leaves the pair in the cold air, badly held back tears falling down her cheeks as she retreats. 

Emma lets out a sharp breath, hands clenching his shirt. Her wide eyes shut and her fists suddenly pull away, pushing them into his chest, hitting him again and again and there's no real strength there, it doesn't hurt. He doesn't understand but it's Emma and she's a challenge and he loves a challenge doesn't he. 

"Swan." He says gently, tries to reason with her fury. 

She shakes her head, teeth clenched and fists pounding leather again and again in frustration and he can take that but whatever it is that's burning her, he can't take. He bets he can guess that it starts with something to do with 4 days. 

His hand comes up to grip one of her wrists but she shakes it free, heartbreaking moan from her throat as she continues forcing out her anger. 

"Emma." He tries again, instantly getting a response out of her through the haunted way he says her name. 

He grips her wrist again, stronger this time, catching both in his big grasp. She doesn't shake free just falls forward against him, grief wracking her body. 

"It's not enough. I need more time." She whimpers, heartbroken, sadness tinged with anger.

"Why didn't you come back sooner," it's more sadness then, and it hits him the almost healed hole in his heart. "Damn it Killian! I can't lose you again, not yet." 

His other arm comes around her back, holding her up, holding her against him and she cries softly, gentle whimpers, unsure. She hides her face from him, so quiet, squeezing her eyes shut to try to prevent her tears. He tries to get her to look at him but she won't, just grips him harder, pushes her head closer into his chest. 

"Love, It's not the first time I've seen you cry." He murmurs gently, leaning down and pressing a kiss into her hair.

She takes a breath, pulls back then, red cheeks, streaming tears and her chest moves rapidly. He watches her prevent herself from crying and she manages it for a second as he softly wipes her cheeks but then she blinks and more fall. She sighs frustratedly, attempting to get control over herself, struggling to breathe as she gasps again. He pulls her tightly against him again. 

"You don't always have to be so brave, love." He whispers.

He lets her hands go to bring his other arm around her, holding her with as much of himself as possible. He steps backwards moving them both until the backs of his legs hit the swinging chair then he sits, pulling her down onto his lap like a child. He's not sure how long they sit like that but he rubs her back and kisses her hair and whispers comforts until she stops shaking. 

She pulls back and the first thing that rolls off her tongue is an apology and he won't have that. He pulls her tight against him again and she lets him, gripping the front of his shirt. 

"It's okay, Love." He tells her, finding her chin with gentle fingers and tilting her face so he can meet her eyes. 

She shuts hers however and he traces the line of her jaw with his thumb before trailing the tear tracks. She takes a deep breath, sniffing and then opening her eyes again with a nod and his soft eyes can't handle it. 

God he can't watch the woman he loves be reduced to this, he wishes there was something he could do. As she regains control he leans forward gently, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Her lips twitch, the beginning of a smile that looks wrong with swimming eyes. 

He doesn't want her to do that with him, doesn't want her to be afraid. She can show herself to him, show everything to him because he loves every insignificant detail about her. He loves her sadness and he loves her anger, he loves her strength and her weaknesses, he just loves her and he'll never be able to show her just how much. 

Emma starts to get up then, hand on his shoulder to steady herself but he grips her waist, holds her against him for a little bit longer. Her little breakdown acts as a stark reminder that he's gonna lose her and he needs to hold her as much as she needs holding.

"Wish I could see the sea." He mumbles, breath steaming in the cold black air. 

His eyes are fixed on the moon as he lets go of his grip on her hip but she doesn't move. If anything, she leans a bit closer into his body, eyes shutting just letting herself have this. She doesn't answer, the silence between them isn't heavy, they never needed words.

He sighs after a moment.  
"We don't need time Swan, my love for you is infinite." He tells her before he sits back, she smiles a little at that, a real one, not one to hide behind. 

He kisses her forehead and regards her carefully. She holds his eyes, goes to speak, her lips freeze, eyes flashing dangerously and he suddenly knows what she wants to say, knows what she can't say. 

He can hear it in the silence, see it in the colour of her eyes, feel it pressing into his lips. It's in his hands when her fingers are laced through his own, in the breath she takes before she says his name, in the shiver down her spine when they're pressed together tight. But he doesn't say any of those things because he's good at being selfish and he wants her to say it. He wants her to struggle with the insignificant letters that mean so much. He wants her to say it because bloody hell he loves her too.


	11. 3 days

He's not expecting it when it happens and maybe that's her plan all along. Mary Margaret asks Emma and David to go into town and he almost asks her not to go.   
They were the best with guns and yeah he was working on being selfless but he can't bear to let her out of his sight for even a minute. 

Somehow she feels his anxiety and holds his hand a little tighter, holds his gaze and rubs her thumb on the back of his hand in an action that's supposed to reassure him. 

She kisses him differently too and no one was really paying attention to them but it he's sure it would scar poor Henry for life. Her hips press against his and her hands are tugging at the hair at the back of his neck. His hooked arm presses her there, holds her waist close and the other one comes up to cup her cheek, fingers entwined in golden hair. 

It's like their first kiss, back in Neverland when she told him he couldn't handle it and he didn't believe her until after she'd walked off and he was searching for air to breathe in the space she'd occupied moments ago. 

She breaks off to let him breathe but he doesn't and she claims his mouth again, soft but with intense intention. 

Finally pulling away, their heads rest on each other, breathing heavily in the gap between their mouths. She smiles, cheeks flushed eyes glazed and he looks back at her completely lost. His eyes a daze and knees weak, swallowing to gain control. 

"I'll be back soon." She murmurs, suddenly pulling out of his arms. 

"You better." He almost growls, voice gruff, no colour left in eyes as his pupil swallows up the blue, leaving him stripped. He must look completely ruined. 

He watches as she stumbles a little on the way to the door, following Charming. He hands her a gun and she lifts her shirt a little to tuck it into the waist of her jeans. He gets a glance of soft skin and he really needs to shake himself out of this. 

"Stay safe." Mary Margaret tells them and Emma nods at her before turning round to meet Killian's eyes again. 

There's a sliver of light from the gaps between the blinds of the window that covers half her face and he can still see the pink in her cheeks. She shines, he swears she just shines. 

Something flashes across her eyes and she half smiles and he sees her making a decision. She grasps it and makes up her mind before she can back out. He looks down at his feet, searching for his self control.

"Killian." She calls and he looks up to find her in a grin, tongue held between her teeth in an endearing way. 

She waits until he looks up and then she takes his breath away. 

"I love you." And it's with such light ease it almost sounds like she's teasing, 

It's still weighted all the same, her eyes bare, worried about how it was to be received. The room is still noisy but both of her parents are looking at her with wide eyes, frozen in place. 

He takes a breath, relief and adoration flooding his mind. His smile starts off slow, tugging at the corners gently then letting it spread into a wide grin, teeth and all. 

She knows exactly what she's done to him and he resists every urge to run at her, fling her into his arms, kiss her up against the wall. Instead his eyes light up, love filling every cell in his body.

"I know." He says, smirk on his lips, teasing lint to his voice. 

And just like that she smiles, taking the sunlight with her as she walks out the door, a confused David trailing behind. 

 

It's a whole 12 hours before she says it again, not that he's waiting. 

It's not until she's lying on his chest, soft skin against his own, both hearts beating out of rhythm as they fill their lungs with air that it's said. 

She laughs a melodic, breathless sound and she doesn't look at him when she says it, choosing instead to whisper it against the skin of his chest.   
"God, I love you." His breathing stutters and his hand stops it's gentle carding through her hair. 

He didn't think he'd ever get happiness like this, he doesn't deserve happiness like this. 

"Say it again." He pleads, voice caramel soft. She turns from her side to her stomach and gently pushes herself up to look at his face. His eyes are wide and she's never going to ever get used to this. 

"Killian Jones," she murmurs and that might as well be it, he doesn't need the next three words. 

The green in her eyes surges, leaps forward and was that much love always there? It's so soft and so much like home he wants to cry. He never wants her to stop looking at him like that. 

"I love you." Each word is slow, leaving her lips in the shape of a piece of herself, written like a promise. It's too much but not enough at the same time. And from her it means the world.


	12. 2 days

The days get shorter as they run out of time. Everything happens in an instance, it's morning and then the day has gone within seconds. The atmosphere is lazy, gives the appearance that they're contently relaxing. The reality is that it's thick with sadness, it surrounds the house the way the darkness does, creeping slowly until it's all that you can see. 

It's way into the night but they all occupy the space in the same room, can't bare to be apart when there's so little time left. Mary Margaret and David are snuggled close together, a sleeping Leo sandwiched between them, one hand on each of his parents chests. Robin sits on the arm chair with Roland asleep on one knee whilst Regina sits on the other. Their fingers are linked together and Regina's other hand strokes through Henry's hair who is sitting on the floor, his back against Robins legs. 

He surveys them all, watching as they cling on to the precious seconds they get with their loved ones. He looks down at Emma, her hair on his stomach as her head lies on his lap. His fingers run through her hair softly and her eyelashes flutter at the feeling. They're supposed to be watching a film but he knows that no one is paying attention. 

They eventually make their way upstairs one by one, reluctant to leave but exhaustion tugging at their bones. He doesn't want to sleep, he can't lose anymore moments.

When the third film finishes he decides that that's enough, Emma is sleeping softly, head pillowed on his thigh and she looks so at ease it makes him want to cry.

He turns her gently, with a tender softness he shouldn't be able to posses. His arm hooks under her knees, the other holding her body against his chest. Then she's in his arms the way she'd been only once before when she was in that awful state after being trapped in the god damned ice wall. She reached for him that time, clung onto him like he was the warmest thing alive. He wonders how she'd react if she woke, would she let him hold her so completely?

She stirs as he stands, carefully as not to jostle her and she presses her face into his shirt, hand gripping the material. Her words ring in his ears like always, the way she'd looked at him earlier as the wind tussled her hair. The way she'd tucked her self into his side, sheltered from the wind that shuddered against his body.   
"We're free." She whispered and he didn't quite know what it meant and he still doesn't but he thinks he's starting to and yeah, maybe they were free now. 

He smiles and bows his head to gently kiss her forehead. When he looks up Mary Margaret is watching him with tears in her eyes and he doesn't know what to make of that, he can't think about that. 

"Goodnight." He whispers, pained affection across his face. 

She nods, unable to speak, swiping at her eyes before she walks towards him and places a kiss into her daughters hair the way he had just done, then tiptoeing to do the same to his cheek. He smiles softly, slight blush on his cheeks, before watching her follow David up the stairs. 

He adjusts Emma in his arms, she weighs nothing so he easily carries her up the stairs. The bed isn't made which makes it easier to place her in it but as he sits by her feet, pulling the duvet up around her, her eyes flicker open. She grips the front of his shirt, preventing him from pulling back. 

"Killian?" She questions, eyes unfocused, in the place between sleep and awake. 

"Love." He answers, pushing her hair back from her face. 

She tugs at him,   
"Come here." She mumbles and he carefully climbs into the bed beside her. She presses herself against him, head on his chest like a pillow. 

"I can walk you know." She whispers groggily and he smiles as his arms come around her, chest constricting.

"I know." He murmurs, eyes taking in her relaxed expression, storing it in his memory.

She opens her closed eyes, catching him taking in every inch of her face.   
"Sleep Killian." She whispers, tilting her head to kiss his nose. 

He scrunches it and then frowns, shaking his head.   
"I'll lose time." He murmurs. 

Her hand comes to his cheek, traces along the bone with her finger, nodding as an answer because what do you say to that?

She pushes herself up and he frowns deeper at that as he's forced to let go of her. She reaches down the side of the bed and on the floor until she lays back down, her phone and earphones in her hand. He pulls her back towards him as she untangles the wires and presses one into his ear and one into her own. The music she plays is somewhat old, he can tell that but he recognises it from a song that used to be in the jukebox at granny's. 

He sighs as it plays with heartbreaking nostalgia, " _all I ever knew, only you_."   
It turns softer after that, still something old but again a love song. She whispers that it's Elvis and that doesn't mean a thing to him but it's soothing and lulls him to sleep with soft words of " _take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help falling in love with you_."

The last song he remembers resonates with him until his last breath. He would almost have thought she put it on for him tell tell him something if she wasn't already asleep in his arms. His heavy eyelids drop and he's gone before he remembers why he needed to stay awake. 

_I would have stayed up, with you all night, had I known, how to save a life_.


	13. 1 day

What do you do on your last full day to live? Where do you go? What do you say? What is the point in doing anything? 

They wait it out, that's what they do. He asks her if it was meaningless, this life he's had, this life they've all had. What was the meaning in all of it? She takes a long time to answer and he doesn't think she's going to because she swallows and looks away with that look he pretends doesn't cut him in two.

She tells him that the point was that they lived, that they felt, that they knew what it was to just be. She tells him that the point was to grow a heart and to have it break and fix and beat so hard that it pulsed in their throats. She choked as she told him that the point was to love and to lose and to feel the warmth of blood in their veins, to be scared, to be excited and to know what it felt like to have the wind in their hair. 

It's almost as if she's quoting something, something out of a fairytale, the words tainted with something else. He follows her eyes and ok Snow White counts as a fairytale. 

He tells her it was worth it all, that he wouldn't change it for the world, except he would change one thing and he knows that she can tell that from the way her fingers tighten in his a fraction more. 

The point is, anything you do will be the last time you do it.

Knowing that your last day is your last doesn't change anything, Killian's not entirely sure why he thought that it would. He's not ready yet, no one is. The atmosphere is even thicker than it was yesterday, no one laughs today, not once. 

He wonders if the universe is proud of her cruel, twisted game, he wonders if she'll be happy now that she's sucked the life out a family so full of hope and love. 

The quiet isn't right, its uncomfortable and choking because with all the words that are yet to be said no one utters a sound. They talk with their eyes, with touches and the thudding of their hearts. 

They were brave, he doesn't doubt that for a second but bravery doesn't prepare you with the courage to say goodbye, nothing does. 

 

The sky is beautiful today and he despises himself for thinking it for even a second. It's hazy but it's bright with colours that touch his soul.   
Their destroyer is his favourite and he can scream that he hates it all he likes but he knows the moment he catches Emma's face he'll be thanking the sun wholly and entirely for everything. 

The thing he loves will be the thing to destroy him but he knows that already, doesn't he. That's just how things work. 

 

Killian goes on search through the large cottage for Emma, Gravity shifts towards her constantly. He'd usually try to give her space but he can't today, he can't anymore. His feet pad softly against the carpet and he heads towards the only room with light seeping out from the bottom of the wood. Ironic that is, the only light he can see comes from her. 

The door is slightly ajar and he only hears her voice muffled through it. He knocks softly, a brush of knuckles upon the pine. There's no direct answer but her voice doesn't stop so he pushes the door open with the back of his hand.

What he sees breaks his heart. He hadn't taken much notice that it was Henry's room that he'd entered but now it was obvious. Emma was sitting cross legged on the bed, hair falling in her face as Henry sniffled in her arms. 

She lifts her head in acnnowlegdment   
as he stands against the door frame and gives him a sad smile with watered eyes and it's times like these where he remembers that she's a mother, that she's going to loose flesh and blood. The one thing he doesn't truly have anymore.

"I don't want to die." Henry chokes in between sobs and Emma pulls him nearer so he's almost on her lap, his cheek against her chest. 

"I know. I wish I could stop it." Emma murmurs, hands rubbing his back and lips speaking into his hair.

The tears fall down his face uncontrollably and Killian can visibly see the way he was shaking even in Emma's strong arms. 

"Mom." He cries so helplessly, reminding Killian of how young he really is and how easily everyone forgets it. 

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, tilting her head up but it does nothing to prevent the tear that rolls down her cheek. She leans her head down closer, kissing his head gently again and again. Killian moves from his place at the door and moves to sit on the bed next to Emma. Her eyes meet his and a similar helplessness as Henry dances within the green. He shuffles closer until his hip touches hers and then he pulls her into his side with an arm around her back, tight but careful as to not catch her skin with his hook. With the other hand he tenderly pushes back Henry's hair from sticking to his wet face. 

"Lad." He soothes and Henry lifts his head a little at Killian's voice and he moves one arm from its tight grip around Emma and puts it around Killian, pressing the three of them together in a tightly knit hold. 

Killian places a gentle kiss on Emma's head as she cries silently and she shuffles closer as they wait out the pain, weather the storm. 

Henry's shakes eventually lessen as he grows tired, exhaustion marks his features and Killian has to bite his lip when his mind throws in the thought that tomorrow he'd get to rest. Tomorrow they all get to rest. Copper tinges his tongue as his teeth cut his lip and Emma's voice brings him out of his own dark reverie. 

"Do you know that you saved me Henry? I was alone and I was sad and I was so unhappy. I had nothing to live for." She murmurs quietly, voice hoarse and broken. 

The honesty is striking coming from her and Henry looks up at her with wide eyes, his grip tightening just that little bit more. 

"You turned up at my doorstep when I needed you most, I didn't know it then but I did need you. For 28 years of my life I had no family and you brought me that, twice. The first time when you were born and then again 10 years later. You didn't just give me you that second time, you gave me everything. You brought me my family, my mum and dad, the two people I longed for for my whole life. And you brought me magic and fairytales and not all of it was great but you brought me friends Henry. You showed me how to love and how to trust and I can never thank you enough for that." 

He's not sure how long they stay like that, pressed together in an agonising cuddle. Henry's tears subside, his eyelids start drooping, Killian knows that it hurts, it hurts so much but he'd take it a thousand times over, it was a good sort of hurt. A hurt that you only feel when you love someone so much that the bare thought of not being with them pains you, to be parted from them would be agony but that's the price you have to pay for falling in love and honestly, in different ways, he was in love with them both.

They push furniture out of the way and fill one room with blankets and pillows. Burning words fill the spaces where air is supposed to be, ringing and choking. They fall asleep holding hands, bodies curled around the ones they want to protect. Emma is across the room from him and he catches her eyes in the moonlight when it all finally goes quiet. He artfully makes his way to where she is by the door, stepping over limbs and hair and she stands holding out a hand to help him through.

She leads him back to her room and he doesn't cry, he can't waste the last few hours they have with blurred eyes. 

They say that they're not going to fall asleep, he tells her he's not taking his eyes off her for a second. He knows he's too tired to keep his promise but feels no bitterness about it. 

She points to a place on the left side of her chest, just low enough that she can feel a slight pulsing from the bottom of her heart. He looks up and she's wearing that face again, the one where she knows all that has ever happened and all that ever will, the one where he swears he can see her soul burning. 

"You're here." She says, voice soft. 

But he already knew that, he made a home out of her years ago when she was afraid of heights and he promised he'd catch her, that he'd always catch her. 

There she goes pointing to the deepest part of her heart and telling him that he belonged there like he didn't already know. She crosses it, finger making the X deliberately slowly, promising to keep him there. Maybe he'll be safe in there, maybe he won't need a heart if he can live inside of hers. 

Then again hers will stop too, every beat in the world will.


	14. This is how it happens

So this how it happens. He wakes with warmth wrapped around his chest, soft skin against his own. Blonde tangles of hair rest in front of his eyes, turning golden in the sunlight pouring in through the gap in the curtains. The room is painted in subtle morning light that touches her from fingertips to toes and tendrils of hair. It's not fair, the claim that the light has over her, it gets so much more of her than he ever will. It's not fair and it never will be.

He tenderly pushes the silky strands out of her face and watches as her eyelashes flutter as she dreams. His breath catches at that and seeming to notice the stutter in the steady rise and fall of his body, her eyes open to reveal the endless green. As she blinks a few times they flicker up to find his face and the sleepy smile that pulls at her lips is enough to burn him alive, forget the sun. 

His heart throbs and his eyes hold hers in a gaze full of loving sadness. Oh god. Before the day ends, all of this will be gone, all of this reduced to absolutely nothing, his whole world in complete oblivion. His eyes grow wet and she unwraps her arms from around him, pushing herself up so her forearms rest on his ribs and their faces are inches apart. 

He whimpers softly, something sounding a little like her name and she rests her forehead against his.   
"Shhh." And green eyes are swimming. 

He shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to sear this very moment to the inside of his brain. He tries to remember every detail of her face, the feel of her skin, her warmth, her heartbeat thudding against his. He tries to remember her breath against his cheeks, her sleepy smile, deep green eyes with floating flecks of sunlight and amber. He needs to remember.

When he opens them she presses her lips against his with a similar heartbreaking need. He kisses her back fiercely, hand threading into her hair, this time it's her that moans against his lips. It doesn't stay like that for long, turning to a tender softness full of "I love you's" and "Stay with me's". 

She pulls back too soon and takes everything he's ever needed with her.

"I thought you were terrible at goodbye kisses." But his voice is rough and comes out strained around the lump in this throat. 

She shifts her weight onto one of her arms and her hand comes up to push dark strands back from his eyes like he had done moments ago to hers. 

"I was until you." Her finger tips trail from his forehead down his cheek and she cups the side of his face, the pad of her thumb runs across his lips and he kisses it gently. The words hold a deeper meaning but he doesn't dwell on them. 

"Killian I.." The emotion in her voice breaks him and they've not even been awake ten minutes but he already wants to lose it. He's going to lose her again and it's not fair, nothing is fair. 

"Love, don't." He mumbles quickly, pain in his eyes. And he means don't go saying goodbyes and she knows it. She nods and his hand finds her jaw, tilting it towards him again to place another chaste kiss on her lips. 

So this is how it happens. They make love tenderly, slowly. The sunlight turning the room to shadows of gold that paints their skin. Each touch burns, holding a certainty that this will be the last. He touches every inch or her, memorises the feel, the sight, the burn. He tells her he loves her and she says it back and it shouldn't feel like that, it definitely shouldn't. 

He loses himself in everything her whilst finding himself inside her heart and he tells himself that nothing can take this away. The way she moves above him, underneath him, against him, it's all his, forever. She moans his name like a prayer and it sends him half crazy. 

They come down hard, pressing together so tight it should bruise and it still not being close enough. Hearts push out of their cages, hammering against the bones keeping them apart and chests rise and fall rapidly. Hot breath against skin. Together they remember that in this moment they're alive, this morning they are living and tonight they won't be. She leaves another mark on his skin, possessive over the things that were hers and now he'll definitely die with her lips on his skin. 

They eventually have to part and he feels like a half a man. Half empty. By the way she watches him dress with dark eyes he knows she feels the same. 

 

"One last trip on the Jolly Roger then?" Killian asks eyebrow raised, pretending that the sentence doesn't mean the end of everything. As if sensing his doubt Emma's hand slips into his, fingers locking in between his as she leans into his arm. 

Charming scoops up Leo and the little boy quietens in his fathers arms as if sensing his unease. With eyes full of tears and chin wobbling slightly he nods.   
"One last trip." He agrees, voice breaking on last. Snow sniffs loudly and Leo looks at her with big worried eyes. She wipes her face with the back of her hand and throws him a watery smile. 

"Our last adventure." She tells him, leaning into Charming's free arm and kissing her baby on his forehead, shutting her eyes and lingering for a moment before pulling back. 

Henry gingerly gets up and Emma holds out her other hand. He takes it with shaking fingers and Killian wants to say something to do something to reassure the boy but he can't and it hurts. 

So this is how it happens, the three of them lead the way. 

"Will it hurt?" Henry murmurs and all eyes turn to him. 

"No, I won't let it hurt." Regina says and Killian's not quite sure what she means by that. 

"It'll be quick, painless okay kid?" Emma adds, brave facade hiding the shakes of fear Killian can feel running through her body. 

With no one else at sea, the boat doesn't need a Captain, so Killian leaves the wheel and joins what he hopes he can now call his unconventional but perfect family.   
They sit for a long time in a circle, so close that knees are pressed together, arms around everyone, taking it in turns to whisper memories and laugh through tears. 

Eventually time passes and the sun burns hotter, brighter, bigger. It's when goodbyes start that Emma disappears somewhere under the deck but he doesn't go to her, knowing she needs this time even though he needs her next to him. He almost loses it when the ship turns to tears and confessions of love and he's clasped into everyone's arms one at a time, his heart smouldering in his chest. Henry barely leaves his side, clinging to his jacket when he isn't in anyone else's arms and Killian holds him close. 

"It's going to be okay, lad." He murmurs and Henry nods, setting his jaw, trying to hold in his sadness whilst a tear rolls down his face. God, he looks like Emma when he does that. 

"Is there anything else?" Henry asks and Killian lets go of the boy but only to lean down to his level. 

"There can be anything you want, love." He says tenderly, using his thumb to catch the tear from Henry's cheek. 

"So there's another land after? We can all be together? You and Mum and me? And my other Mum, Robin, Roland and Grandpa, Grandma and Leo?" He lists them all and the hope in his eyes deepens the pain in his heart. He wishes he could believe in something like that. He takes a deep breath at that and pulls the lad into his arms squeezing him against his chest. 

"Of course. We'll all be there." He chokes out. 

Emma returns and she's forced into goodbyes with her parents and Leo and she cries in a way that he's never seen before. He waits patiently though he's bursting to have her in his arms again and he tries not to crush her when he does. He tries to search for words to say to her but nothing feels adequate. He's crying then, shaking as she holds him against her, kisses his cheeks and his closed eyes and finally his lips. 

"I love you." He whispers when he can breath again. "I love you." And there it is, what he meant in every "as you wish" and "be careful" and "I've got you, love." There's what he meant in every single selfless action, in gentle touches, in burning looks. 

"And I love you." Emma whispers back, "Always." She takes a few deep breaths trying to calm her shaking. 

"I don't know how to say it." She half laughs through tears. He shakes his head with a pained smile, wanting to tell her not to but needing something. 

"Say it like you're going to come back." He murmurs, voice a strained tone. 

There's silence as she thinks over his request before smiling sadly.

"See you later Captain Hook."

"In a while, Swan." She laughs and he smiles.

This is how it happens.  
It's funny the way things change from there, go from pain to love, from love to bravery. The hero's stand in a line on the deck, each person holding the hand of the next. The wind is gentle, blowing all of their hair back and ruffling their clothes. The sun is huge, filling most of the sky, orange and red and burning. They face it, all of them, heads tipped upwards, light reflecting in the different coloured shades of their eyes, as if yelling "Come on! Come on and burn me!" 

Emma squeezes Killian's hand and he hadn't noticed it before but it feels odd, slightly wrong somehow. As if something in her hand was pressing into his palm and-no.....it can't...  
He squeezes back, heart jumping and he turns to look at her face, the side of her mouth tugs up in a smirk before she's suddenly full out grinning. 

This is how it happens. They sail towards the very thing that was going to kill them, smile breaking out on his face, laughter filling the air. The ship sails on as the earth begins to shake and blinding light turns everything gold. 

Here is Emma Swan and here is the sun and he's ready now, it can catch him if it can.


End file.
